


Dying twice isn't as fun as you think

by Doublerumnukacola



Series: Until The Twelfth of Never [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alot of angst, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, From a previous work, Mostly on Canon, Off-Canon in some places, Past Relationship(s), Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 83,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doublerumnukacola/pseuds/Doublerumnukacola
Summary: She really thought he cared... Shows her for helping a merc. Sole is left heartbroken and drunk in the Third Rail, that is until a charismatic mayor shows up. After that its a whirlwind of getting back on her feet (and swept off them).(Based on a previous work that I wrote, but with a lot more additions and some overhauls)





	1. Why Don't You Do Right?

**Author's Note:**

_**Week 11 in the Waste Land** _

It was a quiet night at the Third Rail. In the small hours after midnight, only the most dedicated drunks hung around. Magnolia was resting her voice at the bar, sipping a foggy glass of water. Whitechapel Charlie was wearily polishing the bar, the filthy rag held in clamped appendage. As for the rest, the usual rabble of drifters were too high or drunk to do more than murmur to one another. 

A ways off from the rest of the bar, the Sole Survivor sat in the V.I.P. lounge, drinking her troubles away. It was about time she indulged in a cliché. All of this sober nonsense hadn’t brought her any closer to a solution, maybe the alternative would solve things. 

She had a sick sort of fun ordering drinks to measure what she had lost; A glass of whiskey for Nate (his Favorite drink) Bottle of Wine for her friends and family (a glass for each), A nuka-cola for her baby (cut with vodka because even if he couldn’t drink, that shouldn’t stop her), 

And finally, the drink in her hand was for him, the final loss. The one that had her drinking herself to death on a dirty lounge sofa. Sole held the drink to her lips, glancing down at the foggy liquid sloshing against the glass. She wasn’t actually sure what what she was drinking, she just asked Charlie to give her something that would fuck her over royally. 

It tasted rank, pretty fitting considering who the drink was modeled after. _This one’s for you, you cap-loving bastard._ She thought bitterly, swigging back the drink. She could already feel it curdling her insides. _And after everything we went through. After we delved into the heart of that feral infested lab. Guess you were only interested in helping your own kid. Screw everyone else, and their missing children, huh?_ She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. Guess this was her life now….

The bar continued on without her, the drunks kept murmuring, Magnolia was getting ready to get back on stage, and Charlie was getting Sole’s next round ready. The Mr. Handy was happy enough to let her pickle her insides with swill, as long as she had the caps. But there was one person in Goodneighbor who wouldn't stand to watch her rot away from drink and sorrow. 

From the murmured hush of the Third Rail, came the sound of boots descending the stairs,like a slow and methodical rhythm, growing louder with every beat. The soft swish of coat tails were like a accompaniment to the music of their entrance. Magnolia took her cue, stepping on to the stage with practiced grace. She cleared her throat, and music started to play. She’d been meaning to try out a new set, and what better audience than the mayor himself?

_“You had plenty money, 1922,_  
_You let other women make a fool of you…_  
_Why don’t you do right,_  
_Like some other men do?_  
_Get out of here, and get me some money too.”_

Hancock reached the final step, landing with his usual swagger and panache. The whole bar livened up in the presence of their fearless Mayor and lovable junkie; partly because of his charm, but mostly since he usually paid for a free round of drinks and daytripper. They would be disappointed tonight. He was here on business.

_“You’re sitting here wondering_  
_What it’s all about,_  
_You ain't got no money,_  
_They will put you out._  
_Why don't you do right,_  
_Like some other men do?_  
_Get outta here,_  
_And get me some money too.”_

He was grinning as he strode to the bar, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached the worn wooden counter, leaning casually upon it. Or at least it would have looked casual, if his eyes weren’t darting over to the VIP lounge every few minutes. Charlie already had Hancock’s usual ready; Double rum and nuka cola, garnished with a small pharmacy of chems. On the house. But the ghoul didn’t touch it.

“She still…?” Hancock asked, his voice lowered. Charlie hovered a little closer, nearly resting a metal arm on the counter. 

“Been there all day and all night, four days running. Only leaves when nature calls, or at least I hope.” The Mr. Handy replied, narrowing his ocular lenses at the ghoul. “I’d say something, but she’s the only one that pays their tab in caps. Takes more than good will to keep the lights on in this place.”

“What’s the word on Mac-, uh, ‘ the sniper’.” Hancock started to ask, tripping over the last words. He gave a cautious look to the lounge. In the neon light he could just make out her silhouette. Could she hear him from there? It wouldn’t surprise him. He’d need watch what he said...

_“If you had prepared 20 years ago,_  
_You wouldn't be a-wanderin’ out from door to door._  
_Why don't you do right,_  
_Like some other men do._  
_Get out of here,_  
_And get me some money too…”_

“Nothing new, last person to see him was Daisy two weeks back. Since then he’s probably been laying low in the Capital Wastes.” Charlie answered, Hovering back up, and grabbing a foggy glass and bar rag. He started polishing it needlessly, a habit he’d had since he was built. “Can't blame Daisy though, she thought he’d have told _you-know-who_ he was leaving. Poor girl.”

“Well the pity party's over.” Hancock muttered, turning towards the V.I.P. lounge. “Time someone snapped her out of her funk.” Charlie gave a skeptical look, somehow, and continued polishing glasses. 

Hancock strode towards the lounge, slowing his pace as he approached. He hesitated at the doorway. His insides started to turn the closer he came. The confidant resolve he’d descended the stairs with was now shrinking before the light of the neon sign. Maybe he should leave her alone after all, he reasoned with himself. Everyone dealt with a broken heart differently, maybe killing her liver was her way. Yeah, he was down with that. He did it all the time. He would just leave her-

“God, you’re like a cat. Come in or stay out. And bring a drink.” A voice called from the lounge. He’d been caught. Regardless, he knocked on the frame, and swaggered in as if nothing happened. She barely looked up from from her drink.

“Sister, you are a mean drunk.” He chided, plopping down on the opposite couch, kicking his boots up onto the table with a thud. He snapped open a tin of mentats and popped a couple into his mouth. “If you’re not careful, I’ll tell Charlie to cut you off.”

“Thought Goodneighbor was all ‘bout freedom.” She noted bitterly, focusing on every syllable too much, careful not to slur. Which meant she was completely hammered. Hancock chuckled, despite himself. Even as a drunken mess she could call his bluff. She looked up at him now, putting her drink down. “So, what do ya need, Mayor?”

_I fell for your jivin' and I took you in_  
_Now all you got to offer me's a drink of gin_  
_Why don't you do right, like some other men do?_  
_Get out of here and get me some money too..._  
_Why don't you do right, like some other men do…._

What did he need? He crossed his arms, feeling the mentats working their way through his system. The fog in his head cleared and his natural charm kicked into full gear.

“Gotta job for you, need you sober. Well, sober-ish.” Hancock replied, grinning wide. “Super Mutants are getting a little too comfortable around Good Neighbor for everyone's liking. I’d appreciate it if you gave ‘em a good old fashioned eviction.” She was silent for a moment, picking her drink up once more, staring down at it with a dour expression. The drink looked like rot-gut, something that made even Hancock’s stomach turn.

“You know I hate it when you do that.” Sole muttered, swigging back her drink, slamming the glass on the table with a sharp clunk. “Taking that shit before you say something clever. It's not even you talking, it's those shitty mints.”

“And I’ll just pretend that’s the drink talking.” Hancock shot back. “Besides, these aren’t ‘shitty’. They came from straight from Fred Allen! Guy puts a lot of love into his work.” He took a breath and regained his composure. “Anyway, the job. You in?”

“Did the mentats tell you to change the subject?” She asked, leaning back and resting her eyes. “Or are you just that eager to get me outta here?”

“Can't it be both?” Hancock joked. She didn't smile. He sighed. “Look, Sole… You know you got friends here. Right?”

“Name three,” Sole demanded, holding up three fingers. “And Kent doesn't count, because he's everyone's friend.” Hancock rested his hand on the back of his neck, looking up at the smoke stained ceiling.

“Do I really-” He tried, but a look from Sole said everything. He sighed.

“Daisy-” He started but she cut him off quickly.

“Strike one, she’s the reason I’m in this mess.” She countered sharply.

“Don't hang this on Daisy.” He growled, “She didn't know he was leaving you high and dry, well. Clearly not dry.” She gave a rueful laugh at that, a hollow chuckle that made his skin crawl. “OK I’ll try again. How about…” He had to really think, he could already feel the mentats wearing off and she’d throw a fit if he popped a few more. “Uh… Kent?”

“Strike two.” She mumbled, “Kents a sweetheart…”

“That ain't fair.” Hancock pointed out. “Being too nice ain't his fault.”

“Fine, whatever. That’s one.” She gave in. “Good luck with two and three.”

Hancock thought hard, he knew every face in town, lots of decent folks, this shouldn't be too hard. Except that since Sole had made waves since she blew into town.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t made many friends since he met her either. A lot of people took exception to him killing Finn, not that they'd say it to his face. Not to mention having Sole do his dirty work taking out Sinjin. At least Bobbi no-nose brought it on herself, or so he tried to tell himself.

“Kleo?” He tried again.

“Strike two for real now,” She replied tiredly, leaning back against the couch. “In her terminal she has at least three accounts of how she would kill me. Plus, she’s the most reliable vendor for oil in the commonwealth, and she knows it. Jacks up the price as soon as I walk in.” She rested her eyes for a moment.

“You’re paranoid, sister. Why are you snooping on her terminal anyway?” Hancock asked, arching what would have been an eyebrow, suspiciously.

“Because everyone's out to get me…” Sole answered, opening her eyes just a crack to look at Hancock with bloodshot eyes. He held his breath, unsure of what to say, until a weak smile graced her lips and she gave a soft chuckle. “Just kidding.” He laughed in relief, letting out the breath. She closed her eyes again. “So, who’s next?”

“Ain't it obvious, sister?” Hancock asked with a sly smile. She couldn’t see it, but the smile somehow shone in his voice.

“Not to me.” She sighed. He found himself hesitating. What the hell was he afraid of?

“Well… It's Charlie, obviously.” He finally added, lamely. She nodded quietly. He’d gotten another one at least. Only now he had to say the last one, then he’d win whatever game they were playing and she could get her act together. He’d even saved the best for last…. But he was silent. She looked up at him.

“So, Mr. Mayor, who’s lucky contestant number three?” She asked, a faint smile returning. This was the easiest part, so why couldn’t he say it?

“Irma…” He answered, he words didn't even feel like his own. The faint smile on her lips melted away. She sighed, pulling herself off the couch, swaying dangerously as she stood.

“Strike Three.” She muttered, putting a hand on the peeling wall paper to support herself.

“Oh c’mon I was just kidding…” Hancock tried, but even he wasn't convinced. She started towards the lounge doorway, each step heavier than the last. “Hey, let me give you a hand.”

“Don't need… Your help…” She managed between footfalls. She made it to the doorway, pausing there. “Not looking forward… To those stairs…” Hancock watched her teeter towards the exit. He exchanged concerned looks with Charlie before going after her. He stayed a few steps behind her, trying to look casual, just helping a drunk get some fresh air… Not worried about her at all.

\-------------------------

They emerged from the Third Rail, the air was chill and fresh, The faintest trails of sunrise tainted the night sky. It’d be morning soon, much to Hancock’s disgust. Sole leant into an alley and heaved up a volley of Rot-gut and whatever else she’d been swilling for the last few hours. Best way to sober up.

Hancock lit up as he waited for her to finish. He took a drag on his stale cigarette, what he wouldn't give to taste what one of these was like fresh out of the packet. Smoke curled through the air like a ribbon, illuminated by the waning lamplight. 

Finally the heaving subsided and the last bit was spat out like an afterthought. Sole coughed, trying to get ahold of herself. Hancock reached into a coat pocket and grabbed a can of purified water he kept for occasions like this. He cracked it open and bent down beside Sole, who was on their knees shaking.

“Here, just what the Doctor ordered.” He said, handing it over to Soles trembling fingers. She took a mouthful, washed out her mouth with a swish, and spat it out with relief, before taking a drink. She sighed, the tremors subsiding.

“Thanks…” She said gratefully, taking another sip. Hancock shook his head, breathing out a stream of smoke into the cool air. 

“You can thank me by clearing out the mutant nests.” He answered, looking out at the few stars not snuffed out by sunrise. “And by pulling yourself together. The broken mess trademark belongs to me.” She laughed, the first real laugh he’d heard all night.

“I don't mind paying the royalties on it.” She countered playfully, wiping her mouth and smiling up at him weakly.

“No chance, this look aint cheap.” Hancock replied, smiling himself. “Get your own style.”

“How about, ‘Lovable Loser’?” She asked.

“That’s Fred’s, and Maybe Kent’s too. They got joint custody on it.” Hancock replied, taking another drag, burning the cigarette right down to the filter.

“Mysterious Seductress?” She asked, trying to wink, but it looked more like she was having a stroke. She laughed at her own attempt. “Maybe not right now, though.”

“Sorry, that’s Magnolia’s schtick.” He chuckled. “And mine back in my touring days…”

“You were a seductress?” Sole asked, catching him off guard. She didn't think ghouls could blush, but the faint flush of purple on Hancock cheeks proved her wrong.

“Sister, I could’ve been anyone to the right someone.” He recovered, a sly grin covering for the flush in his face. “But this ghoul’s tours of the town are suspended until further notice.” Hancock ground out his cigarette on the brick wall beside him.

“That's a damn shame.” Sole sighed, only half-jokingly. She looked up at the lilac clouds starting to drift into the dark sky from the sunrise. “What made you hang up that snazzy hat?” There was a silence. Hancock hands were itching to go for the tin of mentats again. He sighed.

“Just not my scene anymore.” He lied. She wasn't expecting a lie. Neither had he to be honest. He took a breath. “You better get back to the Rex, get a bit of shut eye. Otherwise you’re spending 10 caps a night for nothing.” He stood up, brushing the ash and dirt off his coat. Sole pulled herself up and nodded.

“Can't have that now.” She muttered under her breath. “10 caps is almost four shells. That's at least three dead raiders on a good day.” Hancock smirked, he liked the way she thought.

\---------------------------

“There, got you here in one piece.” Hancock grunted, struggling under Soles weight as she leant on him for support. They had made it outside her hotel room, but only barely. Hancock had come across many things back in his youth exploring the Commonwealth. One of those things was that where ever you needed a working elevator, there just wasn’t one. But lo and behold, the one being used as a shitter in nearly every raider den seemed to work just fine.

Sole slid her arm off the ghoul and went to her room key, fumbling with the lock. Hancock rolled his eyes and gently guided her hand to the lock. She turned it and stumbled through the door, the momentum carrying her until she tumbled onto the bed.

Hancock watched her for a moment, concerned she might forget where she was and roll off the side. After a few moments it wasn’t a concern since she was already out cold on the bed, snoring softly. He rolled her on to her side side gently, so she was safe if her drink snuck up on her again in her sleep. He’d seen it happen a couple times, and it didn’t leave a pretty corpse.

The sun was starting to peek through the dilapidated curtains. Beams of light drifted onto her sleeping figure, causing her brow to furrow, and her body shift uncomfortably in her sleep. He went to the window and covered it up with a dust sheet from the armchair beside it. The cool darkness settled on the room, and so Sole settled as well.

For the third time, Hancock hesitated. He wanted to stay, make sure she wasn't going to drown in vomit, or strangled in her own bedsheets… And a part of him just wanted to stay and watch how peaceful she was. He shook his head, it wasn't his place to stay.

He took one last look around. He could see why she didn't want to spend her nights here sober. The room was dotted with the snipers odd and ends. On the dresser sat a couple old comics, worn and faded from overuse. On the table were souvenirs of their adventures; the Silver Shroud’s scarf and calling cards, A bloodied knife from Pickman's gallery, and… A microscope? Hancock scratched his head. It was hard to make out in the dark, but it looked pretty ordinary to him. Daisy said something about a cure for Macready’s kid… Was it from that? Hancock shook his head. Only Sole knew.

He was turning to leave when something on the side table caught his eye. His stomach turned at the sight of the wooden soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't really have a consistent schedule for this, but I think the next chapter will be ready may 15th. It's about 14 pages right now in my google doc, so no idea how long it will be when it's done. Thank you for reading :)


	2. Not for Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-------------------
> 
> _How the Mayor met the Sniper_
> 
> \-------------------

_**2 Months Prior** _

“Come on Macready.” A gruff voice threatened from an alleyway, the threat punctuated with the sounds of someone getting the stuffing beat out of them. Hancock was just passing by on a stroll through the town, and usually he didn't get involved in friendly disputes, but this time he was curious. “You can't leave the gunners for cheap.” There was another punch to somewhere sensitive, the recipient choked for breath, coughing out their next words.

“Did Windick and Barnuts put you up to-” A weak voice started, before another hit struck him.

“Won't seem so funny when your corpse is swinging from the overpass, a reminder to any other deserters.” The first voice threatened. Hancock had heard enough to intervene, anything to do with the gunners was bad news. He was about to round the corner, but the weak voice started again.

“Sure sure... Gunners aren't much different from raiders anyway. Might as well close the gaps where you can-” Another strike, this time the weak voice laughed bitterly, coughing between laughter.

“Then we’ll just take what you have on you. Starting with this shitty little wooden-” There was a gunshot and a choked gasp. Hancock turned the corner to see three men, one bleeding out on the ground, another slowly turning blue from asphyxiation, and the third one choking him. The one doing the choking was beaten badly, with bleeding cuts and bruises marring his face, but you could still see the fury in his eyes.

“Put. Down. The soldier.” The beaten man growled, venom dripping from every syllable. Something fell from the blue man's hand, it clattered to the ground. “Tell Winlock and Barnes, if they want their caps, see me personally.” He let go of the man, who fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The beaten man turned to leave, and saw Hancock. “Ah crap.” 

Hancock simply smiled, clapping his hands slowly and leaning against the brick wall. The two injured gunners were dragging their asses out the other end of the alley, trying to stay out of further conflict.

“Well, look at you. I thought I was going to have to keep the peace there, glad I didn't.” He congratulated the man. “The names Hancock, you look pretty new around here.”

“Macready…” The man answered slowly, stooping down to pick up what had fallen from the gunner's hand. Hancock squinted, it looked like wooden figure, only a little bigger than a chess piece. He turned his attention back to the man, the way he walked holding his side meant they’d probably bruised or broken some ribs.

“Took quite a beating there, might want to get a Doc to patch you up.” Hancock continued. “Could have saved yourself some trouble if you’d just shot first.”

“I try not leave corpses where I don’t have to.” Macready replied, getting his gear together, it looked as though the gunners had rifled through his stuff looking for that figure. “Won’t be staying long, anyways.”

“Now, no need for that, I’m just being Neighborly is all.” Hancock grinned, but there was a darker edge to his voice. “Or is my handsome mug putting you off?” Macready was silent for a moment as he gathered his gear.

“Got no problem with ghouls, the civil ones at least.” Macready answered. “Just can't stay somewhere the gunners can find me.” Hancock looked down at him, absentmindedly getting out a tin of mentats, popping it open and tossing a few in his mouth.

“What got you mixed up with the gunners anyway? Doesn't seem to be your bag.” Hancock asked, watching him carefully.

“Came to the Commonwealth looking for caps. Gunners needed a sniper and they had caps.” Macready answered, standing up, all his gear back in place.

“Match made in whatever passes for heaven here.” Hancock noted.

“Sure seemed it.” He agreed. “Until they took Quincy…”

“You were at Quincy?” Hancock choked, “Like, ‘The Quincy Massacre’ Quincy?” Macready nodded.

“Last thing I ever did as a gunner.” He replied softly. “I’m not a good person. Never was. But I don't hurt kids.” There was a silence, Hancock took out a carton of cigarettes, shaking one loose and pulling it out with his lips. He lit up, and nodded for Macready to continue. The ghoul wanted to hear this story. 

Macready gave a shuddering breath before going on. “The job was pretty crap from the beginning, wearing down the minutemen and all. Took days before they broke.When they did, I remember seeing this kid running with his parents. I couldn’t shoot a kid. I let them go, just watching them through my Crosshairs, when one of the gunners shot the kid in the back. Next thing I know, that same gunner’s queued up in my crosshairs and his heads missing.” Macready looked down at the wooden figure still in his hand. “Been on the run ever since.” Hancock let out a low whistle, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“That's some story. But what brought your tale to Goodneighbor?” Hancock asked.

“Daisy's a friend, guarded a few caravans for her.” He answered, stowing the figure into his breast pocket. “Been staying with her for a few days.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Hancock grinned, grinding out the cigarette. “Any friend of Daisy is a friend of mine.”

“If that’s so, I might think about sticking around.” Macready said, finally allowing a smile on his bloodied, cracked lips.


	3. Addictionary

_**Present, Week 11 in the Wasteland** _

The Old State House was quiet, as usual. Only the occasional chat between Neighborhood watchmen was heard. It was one of the few things Goodneighbor and Diamond city had in common; their guards spent more time trading gossip than doing their jobs, left a lot of slack for Fahrenheit to pick up.

The air in Hancock’s office was musty and damp, the few sunbeams that filtered through the thick moth-eaten curtains were cluttered with dust motes and drifting smoke. Fahrenheit sat at the desk, holding her cigarette in one hand, and writing notes with the other. Hancock woke up on his couch, listening to the scratching of pen on paper, the long sighs of smoke, and the occasional murmur of something chess related.

He stretched out his sore limbs, hearing the familiar pops and creaks of his joints. He sat up slowly, propping his feet on the ground. His head was already starting to ache, he needed a hit of something. Jet was the obvious solution.

He rummaged around in the couch cushions, there was always a spare canister wedged in there. He struck gold as his finger wrapped around a dusty jet canister. He gave it an experimental puff to clear out anything stuck in the mouthpiece, last thing he needed was to choke on a piece of lint while inhaling brahmin dung fumes. He took a long hit, the chems burning into his lungs, spreading a shock of energy throughout his body.

“Why don't you just drink coffee like the rest of us?” Fahrenheit asked in her usual monotone.

“You kidding? You know how bad caffeine is for you?” He joked, “My Uncle drank coffee everyday since he was ten, dropped dead of a heart attack at twenty.”

“And coffee was what killed him?” She asked, a skeptical smile on her face.

“No, he was sleeping with some married dame in the stands, had a heart attack when her husband came home early. But the coffee didn't help.” She exhaled sharply, which was as close to rip-roaring laughter as he was going to get. She looked down at her notes for a moment.

“A few things happened while you were out, but nothing too noteworthy.” Fahrenheit mused. Hancock leant back and groaned. He hated these long reports he took another hit of jet, which wasn’t smart, it’d only make the lecture seem longer. “A caravan came in for Daisy, a few packages came for Doctor Amari, and piles of super mutant corpses are dotted around Goodneighbor.” Hancock coughed mid-hit as she finished her notes.

“What?!” He spluttered through coughing fits. She looked down at her papers again.

“The Vault dweller, aka the general of the minute men, aka the Silver Shroud, killed no less than eighty-two Super Mutants, judging by the amount of semi-intact corpses.” Hancock rubbed his skull, he could feel the headache starting to come back.

“Any reason why?” He asked, it felt as though there was something he was forgetting but it wasn't quite coming back to him….

“Because you asked.” A voice answered behind him.

“Pawn takes king…” Fahrenheit muttered to herself in amusement. Hancock stood up slowly, doing his best to grin at Sole who was standing in the doorway, looking particularly chipper.

“Right on cue, Sister.” He greeted, but the gaps in his memory were still bugging him. “But catch me up on when exactly I set you up on this little job.” Sole frowned.

“The other night, at the Third Rail when you… Never mind.” She started, but thought better of finishing the story. “Consider it my way of being a good Neighbor.” She winked, before turning to leave.

“Hey, where’re you going, killer?” Hancock called after her.

“Got business with Kleo. Bullets don’t buy themselves.” She called back. He had to smile at that. He heard the State House door shut behind her and turned to face Fahrenheit.

“How long was I out?” He asked seriously.

“Since I found you passed out on this sofa, it's been about a day and a half. Not the longest you've ever been out, but it's up there.” She replied, glancing at her notes again. “Last reports show you leaving the Third Rail, the Vault dweller hanging on you, heading towards the Rexford Hotel, entering the hotel, and you leaving a while after that, alone.” Hancock fought through the fog, trying to remember. He vaguely remembered speaking to Charlie….

“Take a mentat, usually jogs your memory.” Fahrenheit advised. It irked him, but she was right. He popped open the tin, only a few left. He dumped the contents into his mouth, crunching the mints into a peppermint paste. He could feel the fog instantly clear. It came back to him in a flash.

“Oh shit I did ask her to do that.” He grumbled, “Why did I think that was a good idea?” She checked her notes again.

“We discussed the growing Super Mutant problem three days ago.” Fahrenheit explained. “I suggested a perimeter of plasma mines to deter them, but you made the point that it would also deter caravans and drifters coming in. Your solution was to send someone to take out the closer nests, without getting attention from the larger ones. In addition, we both noted that some were necessary to keep the raider population distracted.”

“I don't remember that last part…” Hancock cut in. Fahrenheit looked up from her papers.

“As we were discussing this, I noted that you’d had two tins of mentats. You were ‘delightfully rational’. That’s a quote.” Hancock shuddered. Two tins was a lot, even for him. He'd have to take it easy.

“Fine, and I guess we decided to send in our personal atom-bomb as a solution?” He hazarded a guess. She shook her head.

“You just said you would take care of it. Next thing I hear is that everything within a miles radius of Goodneighbor has been shot, blown to pieces, or in one instance permanently spasming in in a pile of garbage.” Hancock gave her a confused look. She looked down at her notes.

“Yeah, says right here: ‘permanently spasming in a pile of garbage’. She shrugged her shoulders. Hancock adjusted his hat, pulling it further up his brow.

“Well, gives the Raiders something to… She killed them too. Didn't she?” Hancock asked tiredly. She nodded.

“There's good news, though.” She added. “The lack of threats was what brought in the ‘packages’ to Doctor Amari. Got a lot of positive attention from our friends on the freedom trail. The bald one in sunglasses has been snooping around more than usual. I suppose he likes to think that drifter outfit is fooling someone.” She smirked. 

Hancock groaned, that guy really got under what was left of his skin. Something about all the cloak and dagger routine really clashed with his way of doing shit. He needed another tin of mentats, he could already feel the haze returning. He reached into the cushions again hoping he’d be lucky a second time. 

Fahrenheit frowned, it seemed too soon for his high to be wavering. He successfully fished out a bent tin of Mentats, popping it open and topping up his high. She knew if she attacked directly he’d shut her out. 

“Hancock...” She started, but he knew that voice. He shot her a look. She cleared her throat, trying to adjust her tone. “Have you ever considered a fresh start?” 

“Pardon?” Hancock asked in surprise, expecting one of her lengthy lectures. 

“A clean slate. Starting over.” Fahrenheit reiterated. “Have you given it some thought?” Hancock crossed his arms, studying her expression. Nothing was straight forward with Fahrenheit, and there was a point to this. But he took the bait anyway. “Sure, the idea’s appealing. Get out on the open road again, bring the fight to someone else for a change, rather than wait for it to bang on my front door.” He answered with a shrug. “But a town needs its Mayor, otherwise the shit show falls in on itself.” Fahrenheit gave a soft snort.

“I’ve grown up here, Hancock.” She countered. “Until Vic came in and took over, the place did fine running itself. A figurehead Mayor would run it just as well as a real one.” Hancock looked away. 

Nobody understood Goodneighbor like Fahrenheit. She’d never travelled far from it, knew every inch of it, every soul that passed through its gates. He’d watched her grow up on his visits from Diamond City, back when he still had a nose. So if she said it could live without him, he believed her. 

“What brought this on?” He asked. “Getting a bit too cosy behind that desk?”

“You’ve been distracted from the second you met the Vault dweller.” Fahrenheit replied bluntly. 

“Pfft, ‘the second’ I saw her?” He questioned skeptically. “How do you figure?” She flipped back through a stack of notes and pulled out a sheet of paper.

“You stabbed Finn.” 

“He had it coming.”

“Then you introduced her to Goodneighbor.”

“Obviously, introductions always come off friendlier after cold-blooded murder.”

“After she walked away, you stepped into a lamp post.”

“Bullshit.”

“Says right here in my notes, ‘stepped into a lamp post’ followed by ‘Threats to all witnesses.”

“Tell me Sunglasses wasn’t there…”

“I could tell you that, but I would be lying.”

Hancock sighed. It was true, if it weren’t for Fahrenheit and Sole, he’d be out on his ass right now, probably with a few more bullet holes than he was comfortable with. 

“Say I went along with this.” He started. “Where would I go?”

“Where ever the Vault-dweller takes you, i’d imagine.” She guessed, rearranging her notes. “Now that she’s back to business as usual, she won’t be staying much longer.” Hancock thought for a moment.

“You seem to have this all planned out…” He observed.

“It’s my job.” She replied, grinding out her cigarette. She looked away for a moment. “There is one condition, though.” He knew it was coming and it still pissed him off.

“Cut the bullshit and tell me.” He snapped, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. He popped a few more mentats, it cleared up the pain a little. 

“See Amari about what we discussed…” She started hesitantly. “About the fixer-”

“Really, all that for another lecture on chems?” He asked, anger starting to boil off of him. 

“You need it this time.” She insisted. “You can’t go five minutes without taking something. How do you plan on surviving in the wastes if you keep looking for a fix?” He was silent. He had a problem. The words were on her lips, but she knew better than to say it. The cliché was too much. 

“You don’t have to go clean completely. You just need to get to a point where you can use chems again, rather than them using you.” He groaned, she was right. How was she this good without a pick-me-up? 

“You got me.” He conceded. “But you sure you guys will be fine without me? I don’t want to come back to a smoking crater.”

“Unlikely,” She mused. “The Vault dweller hauled in enough guns and armour this morning to weaponize every drifter and Watchmen for a year. Kleo is still leaking lubricant over the hoard.” Something clicked. Sole and Kleo…? He fought through the haze.

“Hold it…” Hancock cut in. “If she's already shown Kleo a good time today, why did she say she was going there just now?” Fahrenheit shrugged.

“I suppose she lied.” Fahrenheit hazarded a guess. Hancock’s head was working overtime. Why would she lie…? Shit, Daisy….

“Where did that caravan blow in from?” Hancock asked frantically. Fahrenheit looked down at her notes, then frowned.

“Some place called…” She squinted at the writing. “The Republic of… Dave? It's somewhere in the-”

“Capital Wasteland.” Hancock finished for her, already flying down the stairs.

\---------------------------------------------------------------- 

“-Sorry, sugar, I haven't seen head or tails of him since he left weeks back.” Daisy apologised.

“Are you sure he hasn't… hasn't even sent a letter?” Sole pressed, her voice lowered to just a hoarse whisper. Daisy shook her head, a sad look in her eyes… A sad and guilty look.

Hancock watched from the doorway, caught between wanting to give Sole space, and wanting to investigate what Daisy was hiding for himself. He compromised, knocking on the doorway to announce his presence. The two women looked up, Sole pausing to clear her throat and wipe the corners of her eyes. Funny, this was the same woman who left at least eighty-two Super Mutants dismembered at his doorstep.

“Hate to Interrupt, but word on the street is there there’s going to be a pretty groovy shindig at the Third Rail tonight, thought I’d extend an invitation to a few lovely ladies.” Hancock grinned, strolling into Daisy’s store.

“What are you doing here then? Kleo’s next door.” Sole joked, clearing her throat to mend the cracks in her voice.

“Kleo’s no good at parties that don’t involve target practice.” Hancock started to explain.

“So what’s the occasion?” Sole asked, a little curious. “Isn't everyday with you a party?”

“Flattering, but this one’s special. It's a farewell party.” He explained. Sole opened her mouth to ask more, but Hancock gave a wave of his hand. “Working out party details with Fahrenheit, but I’ll be back to see you later, Daisy. To sort out some, ‘party supplies’.” He finished, eyeing Daisy, who refused to meet his gaze. With that he turned and strode off, head already starting to fog up. He was going to need to be at the top of his game tonight.


	4. I choochoose you to be in the RailRoad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \---------------------
> 
> __  
> **Week 2 1/2 of the Wasteland**
> 
>  
> 
> _The Sole Survivor runs into the RailRoad_
> 
>  
> 
> \---------------------

_Stop right there! You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting, but before we go any further, answer my questions._

**_Who the hell are you?_ **

  


_Just a friend that followed the freedom trail._

  


_If that’s true, you have nothing to fear…_

  


The lights were blinding, and the catacomb air felt suffocating. Did there need to be this many people in here? Especially since two of them had their weapons pointed at her. One with a decent minigun, the other with a crappy pipe pistol. At least if things went south, she knew who to take out first. 

“Who told you about us?” The woman in the middle demanded, Sole squinted at her through the glaring lights. 

“I just heard a rumor about you in Diamond City.” Sole explained honestly. It was the truth, even if it was only part of it.

“I see,” The woman said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “I’m Desdemona, I’m the leader of the RailRoad, and you are-” She looked over as someone else entered the fray from behind her. _Oh joy, more people to breathe my oxygen. Is it getting hot in here?_ “Deacon, where have you been?” The new guy put his hands up in defense.

“Hey, you’re the one having a party, where was my invite?” He asked in protest. Desdemona crossed her arm across her chest in annoyance, her other still holding her lit cigarette. Sole’s eyes were starting to adjust now, she could get a better look at the shadowy figures holding her at gunpoint. Except all she was looking at was the new guy, Deacon. He looked as though he’d stepped right out of a pre-war magazine. Greased pompadour, sunglasses, jeans and sneakers? She’d had a pin up just like that taped to her high school locker. Who **was** this guy?

“I need intel, who’s this?” Desdemona asked impatiently.

“Wow, newsflash boss, this lady is _kind of_ a big deal out there.” Deacon explained, but it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh, have we met?” Sole asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t likely, if nothing else she would have remembered that hair. “If you’re a fan, I gotta tell you, I don’t do autographs.”

“Funny, but I didn’t have to meet you to hear about you.” Deacon pointed out, maybe even with an eye roll from behind those sunglasses. He turned to Desdemona. “I mean seriously, Des, you don’t know who she is? This is the leader of the Minutemen. Seems like most of the Commonwealth is flying her flag.” 

“Forgive me, but it’s not as though she’s wearing a name tag.” Des spat, taking a drag of her cigarette. 

“And seriously, the Minutemen, deeks?” The woman with the minigun sneered, “Don’t you call them the historical reenactors of the Commonwealth?” _Oof, tough crowd._

“Well, if that’s not enough for you,” Deacon brushed off the comment, “Nick Valentine was in a jam, but word is that this lady bailed him out _and_ talked her way around Skinny Malone.”

“Right, I forgot.” The woman shot back. “What the RailRoad really needs right now is someone really good at **talking**. All this time if we’d just thought of **talking** to the Institute, they would have set all the synths free and it would be all gumdrops and snack cakes-”

“Enough!” Desdemona snapped. She turned to Deacon. “So, you’re vouching for her?”

“Yes,” Deacon affirmed. “She’s someone we want on our side. _Trust me_.” Suddenly there was a shift, Desdemona’s eyes relaxed, she took a drag on her cigarette.

“That changes things.” She decided. _It does?!_ Sole thought incredulously. _Who the hell **was** this guy? _

“So Stranger,” Des asked, more gently than before. “Why did you want to meet with us anyway?” 

The long story was: She and her family fled to a vault two hundred years ago and were frozen. Then her husband was killed and her son taken. She escaped, found her neighborhood destroyed, her house a wreck, her Mr. Handy tried to kill her, and the first friendly people she ran into made her the leader of their militia. She saved a dozen settlements and took over a castle. She got a tip from a stoned old lady, trekked across the wasteland to Fenway stadium, had to trek again to find an old detective, and then the only lead on her son was some shadowy organisation called the Institute and an asshole named Kellogg. It was only by chance she heard about the RailRoad. They seemed like they might be worth checking out while Valentine figured out a way to track Kellogg. 

But it would be easier to give the short version:

“You’re the only one’s fighting the Institute, and I want to take them down.”

  


\----------------------------------

  


_If we’re going to be dealing with you, I need to make sure we’re on the same page. You know what a synth is, right?_

_Yeah, I know all about them._

  


What had she gotten into? Saving synths? Before she walked in here, she figured synths were just as much the enemy as the Institute. They weren’t much better than body snatchers, replacing good honest humans with Institute spies. She hadn’t run into one yet that hadn’t tried to kill her at some point. 

She remembered when Sanctuary had been infiltrated. Her name was Cass, the settlements only medic. One night the neighborhood gets over run with these wiry nightmare-fuel robots, and Cass is standing over her bed with a pipe-pistol. They lost a lot of good Minutemen that night, especially without a medic to patch them up. 

But Sole wasn’t stupid enough to give a wrong answer. So _sure_ , she’d die for a synth. If it gets her a step closer to Shaun, she’d say anything. 

  


“Hope you didn’t mind the reception,” Deacon apologised, breaking her out of her thoughts. “When you tango with the Institute, you gotta be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor.”

“Well, I was hoping for some balloons and a banner, but not getting shot is nice too.” Sole shrugged with a smile. “I’m more surprised there was a reception at all. I didn’t exactly plan to be here today.” 

“RailRoad has a few eyes on the freedom trail at all times, can’t really afford surprises in our line of work.” Deacon explained, running a hand over his pompadour, “Kinda killed our chance at a friendly first impression, though.”

“You’re telling me…” Sole muttered, glancing at the woman with the minigun, who was likely still glaring at her. 

“But it’s all good now!” Deacon insisted cheerfully. “I vouched for you and no one lost their head.” Then his tone dropped in tone and he lowered his glasses a smidge to look her in the eyes, “ _Still_ , I would consider it a close personal favor if you didn’t sell us out to the Institute.” There was a tense moment.

“Sure thing.” She assured him. He winked and readjusted his glasses, smiling. This guy was something else, it took her a moment to collect her thoughts. “So, why did you vouch for me?”

“In our little outfit, it’s my job to know things, and with everything you’ve done it’s clear you are a dangerous enemy, and I’m betting a capable ally.” Deacon explained, leaning back against the crumbling brick and mortar behind him. 

“Really? Even with my background in ‘historical reenactment’?” Sole pressed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Ha, right that.” He tried to laugh it off, but Sole crossed her arms and waited for an explanation. “Look, you’re not doing a bad job with the Minutemen,” Deacon started carefully, “But traditionally the Minutemen haven’t been much better than hired guns, and sometimes only when it suits them, if Quincy was anything to go by.” Sole nodded thoughtfully, really looking as if she were keeping an open mind, but that had struck a nerve. Deacon continued, maybe he thought he was getting through to her. “I’ll admit it, I never really cared for the Minutemen. The idea sounds great, but you give small men big power and sometimes you’ll pay for it.” Now she knew he was just trying to set her off, but she couldn’t afford to pick a fight with the only guy on her side. She took a breath and let it out, and in her head she could almost hear Nate helping her count backwards to calm down. She smiled up at Deacon.

“And you still trust me?” Sole asked, changing subjects swiftly.

“I don’t know if we can trust you.” Deacon admitted. _**Great.** I resisted punching this guy for nothing._ “But I hope we can. We just survived a hell of a crisis so we maybe a teeny weeny desperate for new members.” _It gets better! I only got in because they were **desperate!**_ “If everything was sunshine and bottle caps, we might play a longer ‘getting to know you’ game but we don’t have that luxury.” _That’s honestly to your benefit, if I’d known how this encounter would go, I would have taken my chances with Nicks crazy plan of finding a dog to track a man across the wasteland._

“I guess that’s lucky for me,” Sole said in relief, “I hate those icebreaker games. ‘Hi i’m _blank_ , my favorite color is _blank_ , and I like long walks along the _blank_.” That got a chuckle out of him to her surprise. “So what’s next for me?” He blew out a long breath, putting a hand on the back of his neck, which meant she probably wouldn’t like what they had in store for her. 

“Well, Des wants me to make you a tourist.” Deacon explained a little half-heartedly, his trademark smile falling away to annoyance. Sole looked around for a moment, the rest of the RailRoad had disappeared back into their hole, it was just the two of them now. “What a waste!” 

“Yeah, hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts aren’t a good look on me.” Sole agreed. His smile flashed back at that. 

“A tourist is someone who does the odd job for us.” Deacon corrected with a laugh, before putting a hand on her shoulder, and taking a conspiricial tone. “Look, I’m just going to come out and say this: The Rail Road needs you.” She smirked, brushing off his hand. 

“Way to play hard to get.” Sole noted, “But my plates a little full, besides, Des seems to think you’re doing just fine without me.”

“She’s just thinking about the time and manpower it would take to train you, and if you were some hick from the ‘burbs who didn’t know their ass from a rocket launcher, she’d be right.” _Don’t be so hasty, you’ve never seen me after 20 cans of cram. The aftermath is explosive._ “But **I’m** betting you just need a few pointers and a target.” Sole was quiet for a moment. If this worked out, she could have a real chance of finding Shaun. All she needed to do was keep her head down and play nice for now. 

“Alright, you have my attention.”

\-----------------------------

_**Present, Week 11 in the Wasteland** _

\-----------------------------

Sole left Daisy’s store with a sad wave. It had been a difficult few weeks, hell it had been difficult since she left the damn vault… But her mind quickly brushed away the thought, protecting her from dwelling on it.

She was getting tired of the sights and sounds of Goodneighbor. The excursion this morning had been refreshing, she’d almost felt like her old self. There was something cathartic about sniping a Super Mutant suicider and watching it take out five of its closest friends. Perhaps another stroll through the ruins was needed. Maybe she’d stop by the old North Church, there was usually an errand or two to do there.

  


The ruins were unnaturally quiet. She'd seen to that earlier. She may have been a little overzealous. She missed the familiar sound of gunfire in the distance and the occasionally exploding car or vertibird.

She continued towards the Boston Common. She needed to find a quiet spot to collect her thoughts and count her caps before she went to the church. There were a lot of both.

Just then she heard the shift of gravel behind her. She continued, feigning ignorance, but glancing around using her peripheral vision. It was lucky she’d planned this detour beforehand, Boston Common was ideal for unwanted company.

She continued on, towards Swans pond. She could hear the hesitation in the interlopers footsteps. The white roof of the ancient bandstand was well in view, as well as the infamous sunken swans. 

Sole could have launched a fat man into this lake any time she wanted, she’d considered it once or twice as well, but she didn't for this reason in particular. She stood at the fence around the murky pond. She bent down, looking for a suitable stone. Sole smiled to herself, and activated her stealth boy...

Hiding out in the Boylston club, she could still hear the behemoths roars, and the crash of lobbed debris. Who ever had been tailing her would be a million miles away by now if they had any sense. Not many had the reckless sense of adventure that would lead to exploring the area, much less find this place.

She sat on one of the dusty armchairs, amongst the former club members. It was a macabre scene, skeletons in decaying suits, some with cigars still clenched in their jaw. The ruckus outside notwithstanding, it was quite a peaceful scene. There were a few wine bottles dotted around, some still filled, but she knew better than to indulge. After all, she’d snooped around on the terminal behind the counter, and it wasn’t the bomb that finished these gentleman off.

  


\-------------------------------

  


After a while the roars subsided, the behemoth settling back into the pond, returning to their slumber. She'd have to be extra quiet about leaving, couldn't risk waking them again.

She was starting to drift off in the chair, when the front door creaked open, and shut quietly. Her heart rate shot up instantly. Who would come here? Who would be so stupidly diligent in their surveillance? It didn’t match the M.O. of the institute, and certainly not of any raider group she’d pissed off…

“Honey, I'm hooome!” A familiar voice sang out quietly, poking their head around the corner and into the lounge, sunglasses catching the shafts of light.

“Oh dear, you look so haggard. I’ll bet traffic home was just murder.” Sole joked, her heart rate returning. She should have known it was him.

“Oh you wouldn't believe it! Hey is this seat taken?” Deacon smiled, plopping himself on the couch, careful not to disturb the skeleton beside him. “Some jerk nearly cut me off, literally. A whole car just came at me.” Sole laughed as Deacon mimed the car flying over his head, ducking down for effect.

“Really? Because I had a creep tail me home, had to ask him politely, but firmly, to buzz off.” She countered. He leaned back, running a hand through over his scalp.

“Alright that’s fair.” He admitted with a grin. “It’s just been difficult to get ahold of you lately.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in the same place for a week. Not too hard to track someone in Goodneighbor.” Sole snorted.

“Really?” Deacon asked, forcing the surprise in his voice. “All I’ve seen around Goodneighbor is some mopey Vault dweller in your clothes. This morning was the first time I’ve seen you in awhile.” There was silence. He had a point, but he could have made it without being a dick. He took a breath. “Soooo wanna talk about it?” He sat forward, resting his chin in one hand like an attentive therapist. Sole wondered how many times he’d gotten intel that way. Finally she sighed. 

“Well, you probably know how the whole thing started.” Sole started, leaning back on the dusty armchair. “I was doing pretty rough after… Kellogg.” Deacon glanced away, he had been there for that part. “I was shaken up after the memory den, needed some time to just… Process everything.”

“You mean get drunk?” Deacon put in, but a quick glare shut him up.

“That was the plan, but I didn't have enough caps. So Charlie gave me that job to clear out the warehouses, and _he_ tagged along for the caps.” Sole muttered bitterly. “After that was a few jobs, squaring him with the Gunners, and finding a cure for his sick son.” She looked down, this was the hard part. “When we got the cure, I knew he’d go back and see his son, but I’d hoped we could do it together… And that we’d do it after we found Shaun...” She paused. “When he left, I kept expecting a letter… A message in a bottle… Even a fucking smoke signal would be nice…” She gave a small bitter smile. “I forgot how good it felt to swear, at least sober anyway.”

“I’d heard about that,” Deacon noted. “Always struck me as strange that a guy willing to run with ruthless mercenaries would avoid swearing.” Sole shot him a look, he held up his hands in surrender and made a motion of zipping his lips.

“Anyways…. Nothing came. After a week I moved on, did a bit of soul searching...” Deacon made a motion to unzip his lips.

“You went soul searching in the Glowing Sea?” Deacon asked, more than a hint of suspicion mixed with his sarcasm.

“Sure did.” Sole replied evenly, she didn’t feel like discussing the trip in detail just then. Especially not with Deacon. 

“And after that?” He pressed.

“What? No intel on that?” She asked in surprise. He was silent, watching her. She’d made a point of dropping off the map after meeting Virgil. After the Glowing sea, killing a Courser would be a piece of cake. “Anyway, after some sightseeing, I headed back to Good Neighbor for that drink I’d been meaning to get around to.” 

“This sounds familiar…” Deacon said knowingly. She ignored him.

“That’s when Hancock picked me up and gave me a job. I sobered up, and I'm not looking back.” She concluded.

“Except this afternoon when you came crying to Daisy again.” Deacon added, receiving another sharp look from Sole.

“A moment of weakness.” She admitted. “But hope’s not an easy thing to let go of.” She looked forlorn at the dirty window beside them that once overlooked the common. Deacon stood up slowly, hesitating over his next words, but he decided to come out with it anyway. She needed to snap out of this funk she’d fallen into.

“Look, Charmer, the prick used you to save his son.” Deacon said bluntly. His jovial demeanor falling for a moment as he looked down at Sole. “I mean, he gets a gold star for motive, a dying kid is pretty good justification, but he still played you.”

“No…” She denied softly, pulling herself off the armchair. She hated people looking down on her, and he knew it.

“Going out to kill Winlock and Barnes was a test to see how far you’d go for him. Killing a few ferals and grabbing a cure were nothing compared to taking on a fleet of gunners.” Deacon continued, a bitter edge to his voice now. She clenched her fist, she tried to focus on her breathing rather than his bullshit. “But don't worry, the sick kid part was true. I checked up on that through quite a few channels. Couldn't believe he wasn't just selling it-” Deacon was cut off by Sole’s fist striking him across the face, breathless and shaking with anger.

“You’re wrong…” She countered sharply, eyes welling up. “Sure, he left. And I don't expect him to come back, or understand why he left, but he loved me. And I… I loved him…” She glared down at Deacon, who was rubbing the red mark on his face. He felt lucky she hadn't just shot him.

“...That was real. Not a manipulation… Not a lie…” She spat at the floor beside him. “ But I know that's something of an alien concept to you.” 

“An alien concept, huh?” He said thoughtfully, rubbing out the last of the soreness in his jaw, even in her rage he could feel that she’d held back. “Maybe. But a liar knows a liar.” He started towards the front door. “And you can't lie to me, Charms.” He continued softly. “You didn't really love him. No matter what you tell yourself.” He dodged another swing, letting her knuckles connect with the doorway, she winced in pain, clutching her damaged fist.

“You can be a real bastard sometimes…” She hissed. “What makes you such an authority on the subject of my love life? Last I checked you wanted nothing to do with it.” A smirk flashed across his face, sunglasses glinting.

“We both know that was just a crush for you. Fresh out of the Vault, you’re bound to fall for the first handsome man that doesn't try to disembowel you.” He said knowingly.

“What about Preston?” Sole countered, trying to suppress a smile.

“OK you were bound to fall for the second handsome-” He tried again.

“Sturges.” She added, allowing a small smile now.

“He is a very pretty man…” Deacon agreed.

“Arturo Rodriguez-”

“OK I get it, you resisted many a handsome man before you fell for me.” He admitted. “But it was still just a crush. Happens to the best of us. Working long hours in high pressure situations is bound to cause a few sparks to fly.”

“You could have said that a month ago, saved me a little heartbreak.” She replied, trying to force her smile. 

“And look at you now!” He said enthusiastically. “All grown up and moving on to bigger and better heartbreaks!” Sole's smile became more genuine. “You’ll find someone, Sole, but in the meantime just refocus on the Railroad, refocus on Shaun. It takes a lot to keep our little family going, but we’re so close to bringing down the institute and finding him. We can't afford anymore delays.” Sole was quiet. “Clearing out around Goodneighbor was a big help, helped us send out a few packages that had been sitting around. Keep up like that and You’ll get Agent of the month in no time.” He leaned in and smirked. “It's been Carington 6 months in a row, so you got a lot of competition.”


	5. Cold Turkey Won't Do

**_Week 11, present_ **

Doctor Amari’s office was cold and sterile; Surgical tools neatly in place, research materials stacked on counters perfectly in line with one another. A stark contrast to the memory den above them, and the wider world beyond that. 

Hancock sat in a chair, anxiously watching Amari mixing powders and liquids together, murmuring and measuring as she worked. She looked up for a brief moment.

“Does taste matter?” She asked nonchalantly. “I have some flavourings I’ve been experimenting with. A few even have been described as ‘pleasant’. Or I could supply it intravenously.”

“As it comes is fine, Doc.” Hancock replied. She shrugged, a little disappointed, but continued.

“I’m curious though, why the sudden interest in Addictol?” Amari asked, swirling a graduated cylinder and pouring it into a flask. “This is dangerously close to a positive life choice, and I had you diagnosed as allergic to such.” Hancock gave a hollow laugh, holding his throbbing skull. The ache was getting unbearable. He needed a hit, but that was a short term solution.

“I’m not coming clean, just need a reset.” Hancock explained, an impatient edge to his voice. “Sick of taking shit to feel normal. No use to anyone when I’m strung out.”

“I feel as though I shouldn’t condone this as a medical professional…” Amari said, pausing her work.

“How do you feel as someone getting 5,000 caps for a glorified dose of fixer?” Hancock snapped. She put a hand on her hip.

“I never said I wouldn't do it.” She huffed. “But I’m starting to think it would be perfect as a suppository…”

“A what?” Hancock asked.

“A pill that goes up your ass!” Amari snapped, but coughed into her sleeve before regaining composure.

“Sounds fun, would you be administering it?” Hancock joked weakly, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. Amari frowned, ignoring the comment. 

“I’m nearly finished with the solution. I need you to strip and move your chair over the drain.” Amari instructed, preparing a syringe.

“Oh Amari, I had no idea-” He started, but erupted into a coughing fit that wracked his body. Amari took no notice.

“Unless you want that nice frock coat covered in vomit and excrement, I suggest you follow my advice.” She insisted. Hancock hesitated before complying. “There’s a shower near you as well, that will become useful after your body has purged everything.” Hancock moved the chair slowly over the drain, stripping down to his birthday suit. The cold sweats didn’t help. Amari came over with the syringe, tapping the glass and releasing a small amount of liquid to expel any air bubbles. He wasn’t a stranger to needles, but at the sight of it his chest tightened.

“You’re the junkie, find me a vein.” Amari instructed. Hancock looked down at his shaking limbs, turning his forearms up weakly to examine the veins. There was a particularly thick one on his left forearm. He’d used it in the rare cases when he shot up psycho. Amari prepared it, wiping the surface down with a disinfectant wipe. She paused.

“Are you prepared for this? You may miss your party…” Amari warned. Hancock could only nod. “Very well…”

●~~~~~~~~~●

Goodneighbor was lively when Sole returned from the Common. The party that was meant to be in the Third Rail seemed to have spilt on to the streets. Everyone was drinking and laughing, Magnolia’s singing could be heard from as far as the town gates, and Christmas lights were strung up around the square.

Sole walked in through the gates with a smile. So this was the party Hancock planned? It certainly lived up to expectations. She gave a look around as she walked through the gates, but her sunglasses-wearing shadow was nowhere to be seen. Deacon must have hung back from the festivities. He’d come back when everything was quiet again, or maybe observe from the overpass above. 

She strolled through the square, feeling a little underdressed for the party. Everyone was in their best dirty suits and ragged dresses. All her best stuff was back at Sanctuary. Daisy might have something to sell her... Or maybe she could borrow something from the best dressed gal in the commonwealth. It was time to pay a visit to her ‘friend’ Irma.

  


The memory den was deserted for once. The only souls inside were the beautiful blonde woman lounging on a couch, and Kent doing a particularly spirited radio broadcast, which was playing on a radio near her. Sole strolled through the reception, towards Irma, lazily reclining against the plush velvet. She gave a smoldering smile as she saw Sole.

“Darling, what a surprise.” Irma said, sitting up attentively. “I’d have thought you would be out like everyone else. Have you come to see Kent? He’s been ever so happy since your escapades. Hardly ever uses the loungers anymore.” Sole shook her head.

“Actually, it’s you I wanted to see…” Sole explained. “Left my best dress in Sanctuary, I was wondering if you had any old rags lying around I could borrow. I’ll cover dry-cleaning.” Irma gave a soft laugh.

“Oh honey, I can do better than rags. I’ll give you a whole cloth!” Then there was the sound of someone retching loudly from the basement. Irma turned up the radio and smiled apologetically.

“Amari has a patient at the moment, particularly gruesome.” Irma explained hurriedly, “Let's get you dressed quickly, don't want you losing your appetite, I hear they’re grilling a whole mirelurk out there.”

●~~~~~~~~~●

Amari rinsed off the last of the filth with the shower head, hot water rushing the sewage and vomit down the drain. 

Hancock sat near the drain as well, shivering. Amari had told him his body would spike in temperature as his insides burned from the insides side out, but he just felt as though his skin was turned to ice. He clutched at his arms, trying to keep in some warmth. Amari turned the shower head on him, adjusting it to a more gentle setting. He sighed in relief as the shivers stopped. The water steamed over him, thawing the chill. If he’d known how good a shower felt, he’d have sold his whole stronghold for one. 

No wonder Irma always looked on top of the world.

“You’re going to need water, solid food, and rest after this.” Amari advised, rinsing away the last of the waste, shutting the water off, throwing Hancock a starchy grey towel. “I’m going to set you up on an I.V. with some essential nutrients and electrolytes. This should restore a few things you lost, and it will give yourself time to rest.” Hancock patted himself dry, before hauling himself up on shaking thin legs. 

“Don't have… time…” Hancock muttered weakly. “Missing the party…” His legs gave way under him, collapsing to the floor. Amari rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

“You need to do this the right way, otherwise You’ll be dead.” Amari insisted sharply. “By rights, I shouldn't have let you take the shortcut to recovery, but since I have, we’re going to see it through.” It sure as shit didn’t feel like a shortcut, much less recovery. 

●~~~~~~~~~●

Sole emerged from the memory den in a laundered rose dress. She swished the material a bit, smiling to herself. She forgot how good a wash and clean clothing could make you feel. Despite her insistence to be quick, Irma wouldn't let her go out until she’d preened every inch of Sole with soap and water, and finished with a good dose of talcum powder to prevent sweat stains on the dress. Irma may look as though she’d move like molasses on a cold day, but when put to the fire she was like a hurricane of manicured nails and sequins.

She stepped onto the street, looking for a more familiar face, any familiar face at this point. The famous red frock coat was nowhere to be seen amongst the crowds. She sighed, might as well start drinking now, otherwise she’d be playing catch up all night.

The Third Rail was bustling. It was probably the same at the Rexford. Lots of drifters seemed to have gathered from out of the woodwork to attend the party. Sole descended the steps and merged into the sea of the unwashed masses. She pushed through to the bar, waiting patiently as Charlie slung drinks faster than she’d ever seen.

“Yeah alright, keep your shirts on, I’ve only got three arms and one hand between ‘em.” Charlie snapped above the din of the crowd. No requests were being taken tonight. It was straight bar swill, and nothing more. No time to waste on anything top shelf, not with this thirsty crowd. Charlie spied Sole with one optic-lense stalk, and slung her a beer without hesitation. She smiled and nodded, taking the mug away with her, but it wasn't likely to get her as drunk as she’d like. She’d have to stop by her room and pick up some extra’s she’d been saving for a rainy day. 

●~~~~~~~~~●

Hancock was dried and dressed, sitting in a chair. He was hooked up to an I.V., anxiously looking at the clock. Amari noticed as she sat at her desk, sorting out notes.

“That hasn’t worked since we’ve had it.” She noted.

“I guess that’s a relief.” Hancock said. “Was starting to think the jet was still in my system.”

“Not anymore.” Amari said, “You’re running completely clean. How does it feel?”

“A lot easier on the ol’ think pan.” Hancock started, “Less rust all around. Finally starting to get things back.” He felt a lot lighter, clearer. He’d learned to live with the constant ache in his muscles, the dull headaches, and that weird twitch above his left eye… He figured it was just what came with being a ghoul, but now it was all gone. He fet almost better than when he was a smoothskin.

“Well, that’s good to hear, but there are some things you need to understand…” Amari explained cautiously. Hancock frowned, he knew when a catch was coming. “Your body no longer has the same tolerances it had to chems. A normal dose before could be lethal now.”

“So less is more, got it.” Hancock affirmed, “That’s gonna be easier on the caps.” Amari hesitated. 

“It isn't so simple.” Amari continued. “Your body is purged of tolerances, your brain is not. Some receptors will remain unresponsive from overuse.”

“What are you saying, Doc?” Hancock pressed. She sighed tiredly. She tried to put it in simple terms a layman could understand.

“Chems only work by making your brain do the things it does naturally, but usually more suddenly and more intense. Jet is adrenic, triggering an intense fight or flight response. Too many uses and it tires out the things in your brain that respond to adrenaline. Given time, and some experimental drugs, we could figure out a way to repair the damage, but for now this will have to do.”

“So all this was a waste of time?” Hancock snapped, sitting up. Amari looked nervously at the I.V. still hooked up to his arm.

“You wanted a clean slate, this is the reality.” Amari insisted gently. “I can't undo decades of damage in a couple of hours, only begin the process.” Hancock sighed, laying back down. “There’s also the elephant in the room… Your ghoulification also inhibits the receptors. That damage is permanent.”

“Had a funny feeling you’d find a way to kick me about that.” Hancock mused.

“It's a difficult procedure, not many willing participants to experiment on.” Amari added wistfully. “I wasn't even sure the whole thing wouldn't just kill you outright. No way to know what's keeping you alive and what's killing you.” She looked down at her notes. “Your ghoul physiology feels all wrong to me. A lethal amount of radiation to the average subject would only do wonders for your complexion. At the same time, one too many doses of Rad-away could very well stop whatever’s sustaining you. And then there's the nature of your ghoulification, maybe what kills the average ghoul could repair you… I am monologging now.” Amari waved her hand, as if swatting away her errant thought. “Let me unhook you so you can join your party.” She started to undo the needle and tubes, applying a bandage to the site.

“I'm quite a case.” Hancock rasped a chuckle, “You gonna put me in the Massachusetts Surgical Journal for my contribution to science?”

“If it were still in publication, and if you allowed me to examine your internal organs, then yes.” Amari replied with a smile.

“And Irma says you have no sense of humour.” Hancock grinned, rubbing his newly patched arm.

“If you feel safer to imagine I was joking, then by all means do so.” She said, handing Hancock his coat.

“You keep doing you, Doc.” Hancock muttered, sliding on the weathered red sleeves. He turned to go, picking up his hat off the coat rack as he left.

●~~~~~~~~~●

The sun was hanging low. Orange and pink clouds ran through the sky like scars. Not vivid scars, more like the faint ones you keep for years. They were seeping through the robins-egg blue sky from the horizon. 

Sole couldn't help smiling up at it, appreciating every shade the sky turned. If she squinted, she could see stars peeking through like curious children. Her stomach turned at that thought, but brushed it aside as soon as it appeared.

She’d retreated to the overpass in the end. That is to say after picking up some gear from her room at the Rex. She felt naked enough without her filth-coated armor, she had to go back for her 10mm and Combat knife. Not to mention the few bottles of alcohol she’d stashed away under her bed. 

She sat on an old jacket she’d brought along as a blanket to save the dress from the tarmac, Irma would appreciate the thought. She heard hesitant footsteps approach her. About time.

“Alright you got me up here, let's get down now.” Deacon said from behind her. She turned back with a smile.

“Didn't think crowds were your thing.” She replied, “Figured you’d be up here anyway lurking over the action.”

“Well heights are even less ‘my thing’ than crowds.” Deacon answered, trying to maintain his joking facade, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “You know these things weren't built to last 200 odd years. It could collapse at any-” There was a groan of bending steel off in the distance from one of the buildings bending in the wind. Deacon dropped flat to the tarmac and gripped it, in case of emergency landing. Nothing happened though. Deacon gave a shaky laugh. “Just practicing my impression of a dormant feral, it’s got me out of quite a few scrapes.” Sole turned back to the crowd below her.

“I was always surprised Fahrenheit didn't put any outpost up here. Seemed like an obvious place to attack from.” Sole mused, watching the drifters drink and be merry. “Maybe she’s afraid of heights too. Or maybe this old bridge couldn't hold the regular weight.”

“Don't say that…” Deacon whined.

“Oh quit being a baby and just admire the sunset with me.” Sole snapped playfully. 

He scooched up to the ledge on his stomach until he was next to Sole, and very slowly manoeuvred until he was sitting up next to her. He looked up at the sky, letting out a soft whistle.

“That sure is a sky. Looks a lot closer.” Deacon noted quickly. “Totally worth sudden death.” Sole looked over with a knowing smile.

“Deacon.” She said softly.

“Yes, Charmer?” He replied.

“Open your eyes.” She whispered. 

“They are wide open, I assure you.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. Sole quietly and slowly reached towards him, then snatched the glasses before he could stop her. His eyes were shut tight.

“Haha ok you caught me. Specs. Back. Now.” Deacon joked, holding out his hand to where he thought she was. She breathed on the lenses, wiping away smudges and dirt on the hem of the dress, making sure the dirt was wiped on the inside where Irma was less likely to see it. Then she put the glasses on her own face.

She felt a cooling relief on her eyes, her pupils relaxing without the harsh sunlight. She might invest in a pair herself. The sunset looked even better with the glasses on, the tinted glass adding a cool filter. Deacon was seriously missing out. Then a hand snatched the glasses back off her face. She looked over, Deacon reapplied the sunglasses where they belonged.

“Charmer was a poor choice for you.” Deacon grumbled. “It should have been something like Comedian, at least We’d know what we were getting into.” 

“Careful, Deac’s, keep up that tone and You’ll end up sounding like Carrington”. Sole chided softly. Deacon made a face of disgust.

“Ew, see this is what happens when you leave me in a musty crypt with him for weeks on end.”

The sky was bleeding lilac through the darkening sky, the stars beginning to really shine through. The Christmas lights below were starting to glow brighter as well, blinking a rainbow over the square. The lamp posts switched on as well, providing a blanket of fluorescent light. 

“Figures, after 200 years those lights still work. Before the war, my christmas lights couldn’t last 12 months in a hermetically sealed box before cutting out.” Sole complained, continuing to scan the square for the familiar red coat. “Might as well go back down again in a bit, just thought I could spot someone better from up here.” There was a pause, Deacon shifted slightly. He wanted to keep talking. He wanted it to be like It’d been before when they’d done missions together. The give and take banter, watching each other’s backs, the whole shebang. 

But he’d have to start with an apology.

“Hey, Sole…” Deacon started, taking a deep breath. “Sorry about earlier… I was a bit more of a dick than usual.” Sole’s gentle smile faded. “Guess a part of me thought tough-love might help the healing process.”

“Well, it wasn't the worst idea you’ve ever had.” She replied softly. “That would have to be our team name.”

“Nah, Death Bunnies strikes terror and confusion into the hearts of our enemies.” Deacon insisted. “You only have to whisper the name and it sends Raiders scurrying out of fear of the unknown.” Sole gave a soft chuckle. There was another pause. Sole started to get up, dusting off the dress a bit. He had to keep talking, and half-assed excuse wouldn't work.

“I know what it’s like losing someone.” Deacon finally said, as if he'd been meaning to blurt it from the beginning. Outbursts like that didn't come naturally to him, it caught Sole off guard. “I’ve been watching you run through the stages of grief since the bastard took off. I’ve seen you hit them all, depression, denial, bargaining, even acceptance. But no anger.” He looked down at the square below, Magnolia’s voice carrying all the way up to them. Her singing was the only bright spark in this town. “Earlier when I was provoking you, i.e. being a prick, I thought it would do you good to just get mad… Even if that anger was at me.”

“I’ve been through anger.” Sole answered quietly. Deacon looked up in surprise. “I was angry when he left without a goodbye. I was angry when Daisy told me where he’d gone. I was angry when he didn't come back. I am constantly filled with anger.” Her hands started trembling.

“I’ve been angry since I saw… Since I left that Vault….” She gave a shuddering breath, continuing. “But I’m angry at small stuff too. I am angry when the beer is warm, when the crowds are loud, when people pry into my business.” She turned to Deacon, a manic fury in her eyes. “And I bottle that anger, like lightning in a jar. Because if I let even a little steam off, good people get hurt.”

“I've been on the receiving end of that…” Deacon tried to joke, rubbing his face. But she didn't laugh.

“That wasn't anger. Not by half.” She spat. “My anger let's me rip through Super Mutant nests like they were tissue paper.” Sole shut her eyes, taking deep breaths. Deacon’s smile remained, but it was forced. His hand slowly reaching for his pistol, just in case.

Sole opened her eyes, the fury gone. “It's not a new thing. I had anger issues even before the war. Nate helped me learn some coping mechanisms, but I didn't get it under control until I had Shaun. I didn't want him to see me angry, not like I used to see…” She shook her head, taking another breath. “Gotta thank the wastes for giving me an outlet.”

“You hide it well…” Deacon breathed, a bit in awe. Sole looked down at him.

“So do you…” She replied simply.

“I'm not…” He couldn't finish the lie for once.

“Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.” Sole sighed, picking up her jacket from the tarmac. “Everyone at HQ can stay believing you’re a simple sarcastic ass, with a penchant for tall-tales.”

“Thanks boss,” He answered dryly. “See you back there after the party. I think Drummer boy is looking for you.” Sole smacked her head with realization, laughing suddenly. She turned to Deacon.

“Drummer boy! Oh man how did I miss him off the list?” She exclaimed, holding her sides with laughter. It took Deacon a second for it to click.

“You mean, the list of handsome- Drummer boy?!” Deacon burst out laughing, genuine and unforced laughter. “Seriously?! Drummer boy? I’d tell him but he’d still find something to complain about.” Sole nodded, suffocating with laughter. The laughter subsided to chuckles, which became breathless smiles between them. 

“Man, that was list was long.” Deacon noted. “We should all get together and do a nude calendar, dibs on December!” 

“Well, the list would have been longer, but you only limited it to handsome men.” She admitted, taking a long brown bottle of rum from her bag. “I mean Piper gave both you AND Preston a run for your money.” She uncorked the rum with her teeth and took a measured sip.

“Looks like We’d need two Calendars to fit the entire list, then. That will take a hell of coordination. Maybe Glory could help…” Sole offered her bottle to him, he took it, taking a short drink. She smirked, waiting until he was mid-sip.

“Glory couldn’t coordinate, she’d be too busy being on the cover.” Sole countered. Deacon did a spit take, coughing up rum as it burned his throat. 

“You...You got me…” He wheezed, handing back the bottle, getting his breath back. “Cheap trick though…”

“All’s fair...” She smiled with satisfaction. Sole picked up a bottle of rum but left the rest with Deacon.

“... In love and war.” Deacon finished. 

“Good talk, Deac’s.” Sole smiled, “We’ll do it again sometime.” She started back down the overpass.

“Yeah, we’ll do that…” He mumbled under his breath, taking a leftover bottle of vodka. 

●~~~~~~~~~●

Hancock was dried and dressed, sitting in a chair. He was hooked up to an I.V., anxiously looking at the clock. Amari noticed as she sat at her desk, sorting out notes.

“That hasn’t worked since we’ve had it.” She noted.

“I guess that’s a relief.” Hancock said. “Was starting to think the jet was still in my system.”

“Not anymore.” Amari said, “You’re running completely clean. How does it feel?”

“A lot easier on the ol’ think pan.” Hancock started, “Less rust all around. Finally starting to get things back.” He felt a lot lighter, clearer. He’d learned to live with the constant ache in his muscles, the dull headaches, and that weird twitch above his left eye… He figured it was just what came with being a ghoul, but now it was all gone. He fet almost better than when he was a smoothskin.

“Well, that’s good to hear, but there are some things you need to understand…” Amari explained cautiously. Hancock frowned, he knew when a catch was coming. “Your body no longer has the same tolerances it had to chems. A normal dose before could be lethal now.”

“So less is more, got it.” Hancock affirmed, “That’s gonna be easier on the caps.” Amari hesitated. 

“It isn't so simple.” Amari continued. “Your body is purged of tolerances, your brain is not. Some receptors will remain unresponsive from overuse.”

“What are you saying, Doc?” Hancock pressed. She sighed tiredly. She tried to put it in simple terms a layman could understand.

“Chems only work by making your brain do the things it does naturally, but usually more suddenly and more intense. Jet is adrenic, triggering an intense fight or flight response. Too many uses and it tires out the things in your brain that respond to adrenaline. Given time, and some experimental drugs, we could figure out a way to repair the damage, but for now this will have to do.”

“So all this was a waste of time?” Hancock snapped, sitting up. Amari looked nervously at the I.V. still hooked up to his arm.

“You wanted a clean slate, this is the reality.” Amari insisted gently. “I can't undo decades of damage in a couple of hours, only begin the process.” Hancock sighed, laying back down. “There’s also the elephant in the room… Your ghoulification also inhibits the receptors. That damage is permanent.”

“Had a funny feeling you’d find a way to kick me about that.” Hancock mused.

“It's a difficult procedure, not many willing participants to experiment on.” Amari added wistfully. “I wasn't even sure the whole thing wouldn't just kill you outright. No way to know what's keeping you alive and what's killing you.” She looked down at her notes. “Your ghoul physiology feels all wrong to me. A lethal amount of radiation to the average subject would only do wonders for your complexion. At the same time, one too many doses of Rad-away could very well stop whatever’s sustaining you. And then there's the nature of your ghoulification, maybe what kills the average ghoul could repair you… I am monologging now.” Amari waved her hand, as if swatting away her errant thought. “Let me unhook you so you can join your party.” She started to undo the needle and tubes, applying a bandage to the site.

“I'm quite a case.” Hancock rasped a chuckle, “You gonna put me in the Massachusetts Surgical Journal for my contribution to science?”

“If it were still in publication, and if you allowed me to examine your internal organs, then yes.” Amari replied with a smile.

“And Irma says you have no sense of humour.” Hancock grinned, rubbing his newly patched arm.

“If you feel safer to imagine I was joking, then by all means do so.” She said, handing Hancock his coat.

“You keep doing you, Doc.” Hancock muttered, sliding on the weathered red sleeves. He turned to go, picking up his hat off the coat rack as he left.

The party was in full swing now that the sun was set. How Magnolia could sing for as long as she did was a mystery. As soon as he stepped foot out of the memory den, the crowd lit up. The usual faces cheered, the new ones were wary. Most folks had heard of the ghoul Mayor Hancock, usually for nothing good. The regular crowd, on the other hand, were probably hoping for a free fix. No reason to disappoint em, not as if he was going to be using for awhile.

Then the miracle of long term memory kicked in. He still had to check up on Daisy. She’d been hiding something from Sole, and that just wouldn't fucking do. His mayoral duties could wait a moment more.

●~~~~~~~~~●

The shop was shut off in the front, a precaution against drunken revelers, but Hancock knew there was a back entrance in the alley. 

He quietly slipped past the crowds, and slunk between the buildings. He could smell a cigarette burning from the back step. Daisy didn't smoke.

“If you stay out here, you’re going to get caught.” Daisy scolded quietly.

“Well if you let me smoke indoors it wouldn't be a problem.” A familiar voice complained. Hancock grinned darkly, so this is what came over in the caravan, and here he had been hoping for ultra jet.

“I'm taking a big enough risk lying to your girl, I don't need smoke damage on my furniture as well.” Daisy snapped. “Why even come back if you’re just going to hide out anyway.”

“Keep your voice down!” He hissed. “Like I said before, I’m just waiting for the right time to talk to her… It’s complicated.”

“You should have that tattooed on your forehead, Macready.” Daisy chided. “It’d save a lot of heartbreak.” Hancock heard the cigarette be ground out and flicked away.

“No arguments there…” He sighed. Now Hancock had to decide what to do, confront the situation, or let it work out on its own. And either way, what would he tell Sole… He shook his head.

Staying in the shadows was Sunglasses thing, not his. Hancock strolled towards the back door, letting his boots grind into the gravel as he walked. There was a small scuffle of a door opening and shutting before he turned the corner. Daisy remained sat there, trying to look casual. Hancock crossed his arms and grinned.

“Started smoking Daisy?” Hancock asked, nudging the freshly ground out cigarette with his boot. Daisy shrugged. “You know smoking kills, right?” There was a threatening edge to his voice. “Had an uncle that smoked everyday since he was twelve. Dropped dead at twenty-two.”

“Smoking killed him at twenty-two?” Daisy asked nervously. Hancock shook his head.

“No, no. He was poking around a deathclaw nest. But the smoking didn't help.” Daisy smiled. Hancock smiled back, then knocked on the back door. Daisy’s smile vanished. “Come on out Mac, need a word with you.” There was a pause, before the screen door opened. Macready stood in the doorway, looking a little sheepish.

“Look, I know what it looks like but-” Macready started, but Hancock Interrupted with a swift punch to the doorway. The ghoul winced in pain, shaking out the sharp aches in his fingers.

“I’d have loved to put that through your face, because every word out of your mouth is pissing me off.” Hancock growled. “But that's between you and Sole. I just rocked up here to let you know, _ **I**_ know you’re here.”

“Don't tell Sole,” Macready begged. “I'm going to see her, I just don't know what to…”

“Every. Word. Still pisses me off.” Hancock said through gritted teeth. “I ain't lying to her. So you better make your move soon.”

“24 hours.” Macready insisted. “After that I’ll be out of your scalp.”

“You make a lot of demands for a guy in your situation.” Hancock said, narrowing his coal black eyes. Macready started to speak, but a look from Hancock silenced him. “I’m going back to the party. I'm going to drink enough moonshine to blind a brahmin twice. And if I see Sole, I’ll make sure your name doesn't even cross her mind.” He finished with a devilish wink that made Macready’s blood boil. He stood up, squaring up to Hancock, but the sniper held his tongue. He wasn't going to rise to it.

“Appreciate it.” Macready muttered. Hancock sauntered away, victorious in the exchange. 

●~~~~~~~~~●

Sole had barely touched the rum, nursing it with sips as she moved through the crowd. It was too strong on its own, not that she’d admit it. Then a familiar sight flashed through the crowd. A shock of red amongst the grey and brown. She spun around, but he was out of sight. She stood, a little disappointed, searching the crowds, when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.

“Hope you’ve been having a good time without me.” Hancock said from behind her. She whipped around to see him grinning as he put his hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry I’m late, I was held up at a prior engagement.” He had to raise his raspy voice to carry over the music and crowds. Sole strained to hear him. He frowned, then pointed at the state house. Sole smiled and nodded.

  


The State House was empty, on orders of Fahrenheit. Last time the party spilled into it, all her papers ended up being burned, soiled, and eaten. Not to mention what they did to the office itself. Hancock recalled the events fondly, particularly the jet-fueled orgy.

They went up the stairs slowly, Hancock lagging behind. Sole looked back in concern.

“You ok there, champ?” She asked, stopping at the top. “One too many hits of calmex?” He chuckled softly, making it one step at a time.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He said breathlessly. Finally he reached the top. “Fuck. I'm hungry.” He laughed weakly. Sole raised an eyebrow. He looked paler than usual, slower. “Good thing I keep a stash under my desk…” He moved toward the desk, crouching down to pull out a Vault-tech lunchbox. He popped it open and his tired smile widened. “Jackpot.” Sole got closer, peering over his shoulder. It was packed with junkfood. Smushed snack cakes and rolls of gum drops lay beside a tin of potato crisps. She smiled, a little nostalgic at the sight of the prewar stash. 

She went to the dusty couch and sat down, letting the ghoul ravage the lunch box like a true feral.

“You should eat something other than sugar. I make a mean radstag stew. And I can make Salisbury steak edible.” Sole offered, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. “Give me ten minutes and I could even rustle up some mutt chops. Don't ask how.” Hancock looked up at her, face smeared with snack cake.

“No thanks.” He answered through a mouthful of dessert. “Really craving that sugar high right now.”

“You told me off once for eating a sweet roll. Told me sugar killed your aunt.” Sole said dryly. He was hiding something and it annoyed the fuck out of her.

“Sugar killed my aunt?” He asked curiously, popping a gum drop.

“Oh no, she joined the children of atom and died to a mole rat. The sugar didn't help though.” Sole answered with a wry smile. Hancock stopped, and broke out in a laugh.

“Did I really say that?” He asked, putting down the lunchbox. “That doesn't sound anything like me.” Sole breathed a sigh of relief, at least he was well enough to take a joke.

“Nah, just keeping you on your toes.” She replied. Her smile fell. “Hancock… You know you got people here… who care about you…” His own words were thrown back at him. He sighed. It was gonna have to come out sooner than later.

“You caught me.” He sighed, putting away the lunchbox.

“So… What is it?” Sole asked, moving to sit beside the ghoul on the floor. “Must be strong to have you this bad. Some hybrid lovechild between Daddy-o and Daytripper? Some kind of herbal stimulant?” He shook his head.

“None of the above.” He admitted under his breath. He paused, looking around cautiously. “I’m, uh, clean…” He breathed the last word.

“You're… I can't tell if you're bullshitting me.” Sole said softly, gauging his expression. He was deadly serious. “Shit… Since when?”

“After I saw you… Amari fixed me with some kind of addictol.” Hancock answered softly, his hoarse voice barely a whisper. “You were right. Getting too dependant on the shit. Needed a fresh start, in more ways than one.”

“So you’re going straight?” She asked, he snorted. “That's a no?”

“Well, the point of the clean slate was to start using chems again, not the other way around.” Hancock started. “In practice it's not that easy. Gotta work out a way to fix the damage, then I can start over.” A smile came over Sole’s face. “What's tickled you, sunshine?”

“Just, glad.” She breathed, as If a weight was lifted from her. “It’d be nice to see you without the chemical entourage.”

“Don't get used to it, Sister.” Hancock assured. “Soon as Amari figures something out, I’ll be back to my old self.” She sighed.

“What brought this on then? I’ve been on your case since we met.” She asked. He coughed, looking away, a slight flush returning to his face.

“Well, I’ve been thinking. Mayoral life’s been getting too comfortable, the ol’ tricorns getting mighty heavy, ya dig?” He explained, pulling the same hat over his face a little, trying to shade some of the flush. “I was thinking of taking a leave of absence. Might tag along with you, if you’ll take me.” Sole’s smile returned.

“The farewell party was for you?!” She laughed, playfully shoving him. “You had me stressed over something for nothing! I thought it was a fancy name for an orgy!”

“Well let's not rule anything out… I mean you still have that Shroud costume…” He smirked.

“The Silver Shroud would never besmirch the cloth that represents justice with such debauchery!” Sole replied, in her best Shroud voice. He chuckled.

“You don't think he and the Mistress of Mystery didn't ‘besmirch’ it from time to time?” Hancock teased.

“I’ll concede to that.” Sole admitted with a soft smile. “Here's a question, though. Can you still drink?”

“Amari didn't say nothing about drink.” He grinned, starting to pull himself up, using the desk as support. “Care to help me make a complete fool of myself?” He offered her a hand up, which took.

“You don't need any help with that.” She replied, using him to haul herself up. He struggled a bit under the weight but managed to stay on his feet.

“But you might.” Hancock teased. “Can't be the only one without dignity in Goodneighbor.”

“We’re in Goodneighbor.” Sole laughed. “You can count on half a hand anyone left with dignity.”


	6. Second Last Dance

They emerged from the State House the sound of the crowds around them a little overwhelming. She’d never seen Good Neighbor this packed. It was suffocating for her to be surrounded by the drunken masses. 

Then they caught sight of Hancock and the crowd surged towards them. Sole stepped backwards to the State House as Hancock stepped forward, passing out what remained of his chem stash like he was giving out candy. 

It felt exactly like pre-war Halloween, complete with kids in costumes. Some were hobos, gangsters, clowns, zombies… And to think the latter was the most friendly of the bunch. She leant against the disintegrating white paint of the ancient building as the last of the Mentats were distributed, the final tin having to be yanked from Hancocks leathery fingers. He gave a sigh as the crowd dispersed. Maybe in relief, or regret. She came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you need a drink.” She noted, he turned to look back at her with a thin, tired, smile. “Maybe a few drinks, actually.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sister.” He admitted. “Haven’t had a straight drink in awhile. Usually spritze it up with a few Daytripper. For taste, of course.” 

“Ohno, not tonight.” She chuckled, spinning him around to face her. “Doctors orders, you’re already pushing it with drink.” He shrugged, old habits die hard. She could tell she would have her work cut out for her. She was going to have to keep him away from temptation...

\-------------------------------------------

The sky above GoodNeighbor was dotted with faint stars against a deep, dark blue. The Sun said its last goodbyes at the Horizon, lingering like an unwanted house guest. The lamp lights glowed, waiting to be spotlights for the party. Magnolia had moved outside the Rexford, music playing from an old prewar speaker Daisy’d had in her attic. The usual upbeat jazz set was playing with Mags lending her sultry voice. 

Sole and Hancock were drinking on the balcony of the State House, in an attempt to keep him distracted from the slurry of chems making their way through the crowd. The rum tasted like medical disinfectant mixed with cinnamon, but it kept them happy enough. 

“I gotta ask somethin’.” Hancock started, taking a swig from the clear glass bottle, the dark liquid rushing to meet him. “What was it like, before… All this?” She shrugged and glanced away. It was question she got a lot. She’d had a lot of time to think of a good answer.

“Honestly, not great.” She answered bluntly. He nearly choked on his next swig of drink, spluttering it on the party goers below them. She smirked as a few held up their hands, checking for rain with confused faces. Hancock turned to look at her, and she continued. “We had prisoner camps in our own country, secret police, not to mention Vault-Tech.” She mused, remembering what life had really been like. “At the time, I kept my head down. I told myself it would all change after the war… I guess I was right...” Her hands gripped the railing, the ancient wood was feeble beneath her fingers.

“Looking back though, how could I have done so little? I had friends taken in the night; my colleagues who had tried to defend innocent people accused of treason… And I did nothing.” She took a breath. “And here, in the wasteland, I make a difference.” She smiled over at Hancock. “And everything is different, people here, in Good Neighbor, they’re free. Really free. You would never have had that before the war. Not for long anyway...” 

“It’s funny…” He smiled back at her, “Daisy always makes it sound like Heaven on Earth...”

“Daisy’s had a long time to romanticise it.” Sole sighed. “For me, it’s just been a couple months...” Something about those words stuck in her throat. Months, centuries… What’s the difference?

Hancock could have kicked himself. He finally had a moment to himself with Sole, and he has to bring the mood down with a question like that. His stomach was turning, not quite agreeing with the rum and snack cakes. Or maybe it was something else. Something that hadn’t twisted his insides in awhile. Sole was looking forlorn at the street below, was it too late?

Then a commotion on the street caught his attention. The music stopped, the speakers softening to a silence. Kent was talking to Magnolia excitedly, holding some tapes in his hand. 

“What’s going on there?” Sole asked, eyes brightening a little with curiosity. 

“Not sure,” Hancock admitted, “Some scavver sold him some old broken Silver Shroud tapes. Guess he got them working.” She looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah, Kent’s actually pretty good with fixing Holotapes. It’s how he’s gotten all those old radio plays.” Her fingers flitted over her Pipboy for a moment, before returning to the railing. Hancock pretended not to notice.

“You think we’re about to hear another tale of the Shroud?” She asked with a small smile. “I should have dressed for the occasion.” His eyes dipped over the rose pink dress. 

“Oh, I think you’re dressed just fine...” He muttered. Suddenly the street burst into music, and instead of Magnolia, sweet little Kent was stood at the mic. The tune sounded familiar, a tinny trumpet playing. The nostalgia made her smile.

_Heaven, I'm in heaven,_  
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak  
And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek 

There was a tap at her shoulder, she looked back at Hancock holding a hand out to her. Her smile faltered. He kept his hand out, but there was a slight tremble to his fingers. 

“Can’t help staring, huh?” He chuckled, a nervous edge to his voice. 

_Heaven, I'm in heaven,_  
And the cares that hang around me through the week  
Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak  
When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek 

His hand started to fall, it was a stupid gesture. Why would a dame like that- Her fingers wrapped around his and he was pulled close. His heart nearly shot through his chest. 

“We can’t waste a song like this, can we?” She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his hand. He swallowed, but threw on a cocky grin.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

_Oh! I love to climb a mountain,_  
And to reach the highest peak,  
But it doesn't thrill me half as much  
As dancing cheek to cheek  
Oh! I love to go out fishing   
In a river or a creek,  
But I don't enjoy it half as much  
As dancing cheek to cheek 

It was awkward, on that small balcony, two people used to a bigger dance floor. It could have been a waltz, or a tango. But all onlookers saw was two people tripping over each other’s feet, hands clinging loosely to the other as they held each other, laughing uncontrollably. 

_Dance with me_  
I want my arm about you  
The charm about you  
Will carry me through to heaven  
I'm in heaven   
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak   
And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek 

They could barely breathe, tumbling to the balcony floor. Holding their sides now as the laughter subsided. The music played on, but Kent was stepping off the small platform, handing the mic back to Magnolia. They’d just about missed his whole performance. They’d have to ask for an encore later. 

“I think, we had better get down.” Hancock noted breathlessly. “Don’t think this old place was built to handle that kind of movement.” She smiled and nodded, rubbing out the soreness of her face from the laughter. 

“Hey, thanks for that.” She said gratefully, pulling herself to her feet. 

“Sure thing, Sister.” He said with a dismissive wave, “What are friends for?” Friends? He kicked himself as he followed her back into the State house. I mean, yeah, she’s his best friend. But he had the chance to make a move and he… He said they were just friends? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey, Hancock?” Sole called from his office. He looked over, and she was holding two cone shaped party hats. “I fished these from behind your sofa, want one?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not sure that would fit over the ‘ol tricorn…”

\-----------------------------------------------

The party was intense. As the night drew on, the top shelf liquor started to flow. The world seemed to spin for everyone. Magnolia sung on, and when her voice was at its limits, they put on Kents broadcast of the Silver Shroud, prompting some waggling eyebrows from Hancock to Sole. As the party waned, the drifters passing out one by one, the broadcast turned to Classical Radio. No one dared put on Diamond City around Sole, she tended to get a little shooty with the radios as soon as she heard Travis’s voice. By then, the liquor had all but run out, and the few left awake in Good Neighbor sat in the square, drinking nuka cola of all things.

Sole and Hancock were some of the few party goers left awake. They lay on the cobblestones of the square, looking up at the night sky. Hancock even had Fahrenheit shut off all the lamps so the stars would seem brighter, but left the Christmas lights on at Sole’s request. The air was cold, Sole’s jacket came in useful to keep off the chill as they lay still under the night sky. Sole couldn't help but glance from the sky to the ghoul beside her, who was animatedly telling her about the patterns in the stars, in his own way.

“... And that one is the bent frying pan.” Hancock continued, pointing up at a constellation. “My old man used to say it was part of a yao-gui in the sky, but I can't see it myself.”

“Funny, before the war it was the big dipper.” Sole added softly, returning her gaze to the stars in question.

“What the hell is a dipper?” Hancock demanded, genuinely perplexed. Sole shrugged her shoulders.

“I think it’s like a ladle.” She answered unsuredly.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Hancock said, squinting a bit.

“Nah, I liked yours better. People know what a bent frying pan is.” Sole admitted. She looked again at the stars. She raised her hand and pointed to a constellation with three bright stars and cornered with four more. “So what’s that one?”

“Well that’s easy.” Hancock answered smugly. “It's the Vault boy with his dick out.” Sole turned to look at Hancock incredulously. “What? You can see it right there! Just below those three stars is a flaccid cock! What did you used to call it?”

“Orion, and those three stars are his belt… And the one below are meant to be his… Knife.” Sole replied awkwardly. Hancock laughed. Yeah, ‘knife’ wasn't believable.

“So who’s Orion?” Hancock asked, stretching an arm out and putting it behind his head. 

“Oh, I actually know this.” Sole gushed excitedly, sitting up and turning to him. “Orion was this hunter in ancient Greece, and he used to hunt with this goddess Artemis. But her brother got jealous and made a huge scorpion to kill him.” Sole leant forward, Hancock could tell she was getting to her favorite part, she always did that when telling stories. “In her grief, Artemis placed Orion in the sky so he could live forever in the stars. But her brother put the scorpion up there to chase him through the heavens for eternity, you know, like an asshole.” 

“Fuck, so there are Rad-scorpions in the sky too?” Hancock asked incredulously. She smiled at the joke. He liked to think he could do better than that. “Ancient Greece, huh?” He continued. “Sounds familiar, is that like the lard Daisy uses in her mirelurk cakes?” Sole laughed and shook her head. “Yeah then I'm sticking to the naked Vault boy.” Sole shook her head, still grinning, and laid down again. Looking at the constellation again, she could completely see it. And now she could never UN-see it!

“Give me another one!” Hancock urged, giddy more from being over-tired than drunk. Sole shook her head.

“Those were the only ones I knew.” Sole sighed, yawning. She rested her eyes.

“Come on, you can't sleep here, you'll wake up feeling the way I look.” Hancock advised. He shakily got up, brushing the dust off his coat. “Here, let me help you.” He extended his hand once again, but he was in no shape to help anyone. Luckily she waved it away.

“Leave me alone…” She murmured. “It's comfy here…” He sighed. He couldn't carry her to save his life. He looked around for someone to help him, but everyone was either too tired, too stoned, or too _Kleo_.

Then he heard soft snores come from his feet. He looked down and she was out cold on the cobblestones. He knew from experience what waking up with a hangover felt like on these rocks, and it wasn't pleasant, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Muscles…

\-----------------------------------------------

Macready was a coward and he knew it. He sat on Daisy’s back porch, smoking his last cigarette. The music had long since died down, and the revelers had passed out. 

“You better be using an ashtray.” Daisy muttered beside him. She had a bottle of beer in her hand, leaning against the screen door behind her. The old lady may have been a serial complainer since he arrived, but she enjoyed the company. 

“Sure thing,grandma.” He joked, tipping the end of the ash into a dingy ceramic ashtray. She was too tired to smack him for that comment, she could only grumble. There was a quiet as he took one last drag and ground out the cigarette, glowing embers dying in the blackened ash.

“You’re running out of time, Mac.” Daisy said softly. He crossed his arms. He knew she was right. Didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah, yeah…” 

“I mean it. If you want any future with her, you had better fix things soon.”

“And what if she’s over it?”

“Then you can at least apologise for being an ass.”

He was quiet, he did owe her that. He stood up, dusting off his pants. There were voices still in the square, he knew who they were, as much as he’d tried to ignore them. It was time he stopped running away.

\-----------------------------------------------

Then footsteps on the cobblestones caught his attention. He turned around to see Macready emerging from the alley. He nodded to Hancock as he approached, and scooped up Sole quietly. She barely stirred as he held her. 

“Hiding in the dark? Trying to take sunglasse’s M.O.?” Hancock asked in annoyance. Macready didn't say a word, ignoring him as he shifted Sole’s weight so he could carry her more comfortably. There wasn't a damn thing Hancock could do. At least the bastard could get her to her room safe. Hancock leaned close, narrowing his coal black eyes.

“So much as a hair out of place when she wakes up, and I’ll make a wind chime out of your dick.” He hissed quietly. Macready furrowed his brow.

“How would you even do that?” Macready asked, more curious than threatened.

“I'm a creative guy.” Hancock answered darkly. Macready just shrugged and started towards the Rex. Hancock watched him go, silently seething. Had he lost his touch? I mean it all sounded pretty threatening. Maybe it was the party hat he had strapped to his head. Yeah that was probably it.


	7. If only bullets missed us like second chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  **Week 12 in the Wasteland**   
> 

Sole was dreaming. She was dreaming of sitting in a tree, it's branches swaying and moving beneath her. The sun was shining down, and she could feel the warmth of the earth rising up to her. She nestled into the branches, taking in its earthy smell; only it was more fragrant than any tree she’d been in. It smelled a bit like tobacco and gunpowder, with just a touch of brass shell casings. Why did the tree smell like brass? Suddenly the branches gave way, and she was tumbling down to the earth…

Sole jolted awake in her bed. She sat up, feeling around her in the dark. She was alone, her heart sunk to the bottom of her chest. Even now the scents seemed to linger, making her bones ache from longing. She looked around the dark room. Hancock was nowhere to be seen. So how did she get here?

“Mac?” She called out hopefully. She waited… But there was only silence. It was worth a shot. She lay back down on the mattress, curling up into herself.

The tears started silently, but a sob caught her off guard. She tried to swallow it down, but soon she was wracked with sobs, breaking down.

She had to get it out of her system. She couldn't allow herself this weakness while she traveled with Hancock. If he still wanted that…

Then there was a hand patting her back. She turned and grabbed their wrist quickly, her other hand grabbing their arm and flipping them into the bed and pinning them. Sole reached for the knife under her pillow, and found it bare. She improvised with the the nuka cola bottle she'd had on her bedside and smashed it against the wall behind her. She was about to gauge out where she figured their eyes would be, but in her delay the figure managed to grab her pip boy and switch on the screen light.

Sole stopped the glass just short of Macready’s face, freezing entirely. She let go of his arm, lost for words. Macready rubbed his wrist, not sure where to start.

“I'll… um… Let you get some sleep…” He stuttered, looking away. Before he could move away she grabbed the corner of his jacket, stopping him. “C’mon… You’re tired…” She didn't let go, even though she could already feel her eyelids droop, begging for respite. The adrenaline surge had been short lived. He sighed, brushing away any errant glass shards on the bed, and laying down beside her. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, so many things she wanted to say to him… But her eyes closed, and she curled up to him, resting her head on his chest, and fell back into a deep sleep.

●~~~~~~~~~~●

Light blared through the State House windows. Hancock covered his face with a sleeve, cursing under his breath. This was doing nothing for his hangover.

“Fahrenheit… Turn down the sun…” He muttered. 

“She’s the one that opened the curtains.” A voice explained dryly. Hancock removed his sleeve and squinted at the figure. 

“Doc? Didn't think you’d come this far out from your hole.” He rasped, pulling himself up, but resting his eyes again, trying to assuage the headache. “What’s the occasion?” Amari sat across from him, arms crossed. She pulled a bottle from her lab coat, shaking the contents slightly. It was full of little white pills. 

“While you were blatantly violating the spirit of the rules I gave you, Fahrenheit and I were working out a solution for the problem we discussed.” She answered in annoyance. Hancock yawned, leaning back.

“Oh good, I was hoping you too would bond over your mutual love of paperwork.” He said, pulling his party hat over his face to block out the sun, but it only covered the bridge of his nasal cavity, making him look like a hungover unicorn.

“You should have informed me you were leaving town.” Amari scolded him sharply.

“And give you more reasons not to go through with it? Fat chance.” Hancock answered casually. “So what are the pills? Something fun I bet.”

“They are a short term solution.” Amari replied sternly. “But for the right price I’ll allow you to take the shortcut.” Hancock perked up, removing the party hat altogether.

“You’re serious? You worked it out already?” He asked excitedly.

“Yes, with insight from Fahrenheit, we developed something that taken daily should start to repair the damage.” She started cautiously. “And it should enhance the effects of chems. Still, take it easy. Only take one a day-” Hancock was already off the couch and reaching for the bottle.

“Got it, one a day, don't over do it-” He started, but she snatched it out of his reach.

“Caps.” She snapped. “8,000.” Hancock reeled. He wasn't in a position to bargain. She had a small smirk. She knew he didn't have a choice.

“Bleeding me dry Doc…” He groaned. “Fine, work it out with Fahrenheit.” She broke into a satisfied smile and handed over the pills.

“Glad to be of service, Mayor.” She said, standing up and brushing the dust off her lab coat. “Feel free to come back for a refill anytime.” 

Hancock looked down at the bottle. One a day, huh? Easy enough to remember.

●~~~~~~~~~~●

Sole’s head was pounding uncontrollably. She groaned, holding it as she drifted out of sleep. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry, her tongue feeling leathery and sticky against her cracked lips. Was this how Hancock felt all the time?

She kept her eyes closed against the invading sunlight, trying to cover them and massage her skull at the same time. She vaguely recalled a nuka-cola bottle on her bedside, maybe there were some stale dregs left inside… She reached over to it, patting blindly as she went… Hold on…

Sole opened her eyes, adjusting to the light. There was a figure beside her, laying against the headboard, fully clothed with their hat pulled over their face. Both were unmistakable.

“Fuck…” She muttered. The figure stirred.

“Language...” Macready murmured, pulling the hat up. His blue eyes were so striking against the dreary beige of the room. She smiled, despite the headache.

“So it's one of these dreams…” She sighed, nestling back into the pillow. “I must be pretty hungover if I’m feeling it in my sleep.” Macready gave a hesitant smile, wondering if she really thought she was dreaming. Sole looked over tiredly, brow furrowing.

“... You usually have less clothes on, though…” Mac coughed, cheeks flushing. It took a moment for it dawn on her that she was awake. She sat up slowly, smile falling. Macready tried to slowly slide off the bed, but she put a gentle, but firm hand on his coat.

“You’re… Here…” She started simply, dumbstruck. “You came back…” Macready was a bit choked up. He looked away from her.

“Of course I came back, I just…” He tried, but his words trailed off. This wasn't how he really wanted the conversation to go. He didn't really want the conversation at all, he just wanted things to go back to the way they were. The two of them against the Commonwealth… But he sort of blew that. She rubbed her head, closing her eyes.

“I understand why you left.” She said quietly.

“Uh, you do?” Mac asked nervously. She took a breath, trying to keep her stomach down. 

“Yeah, I do.” She reaffirmed, annoyance creeping into her voice. “You left to see Duncan.” Her chest tightened as she continued, heart starting to ache. “I knew that. But what I had to think about all that time you were gone was why you left without me…” Mac bit his lip, he wanted to answer, but words failed him. “At first I thought it was because it would only be a quick visit. Then I thought it was because you were just tired of me…”

“Sole, no…” He tried, but she continued.

“In the end, I put myself in your shoes. Really thought about what could drive someone to do something so thoughtless…” Sole’s voice grew stronger now as she pushed through the hangover. “It was because you were afraid.” His face paled, she’d hit the nail on the head with that one. “Afraid of what Duncan would think of you moving on, what he would think of me, what I would think of him. Maybe it was something else, I could think of a thousand things to be afraid of. What gets me, is you… Never said goodbye… A letter… Anything.” She clutched the material of his coat tightly, balling it in her fist… Before taking a breath and letting go.

“You always knew me better than I ever could.” Macready admitted quietly. “I was terrorfied. Not just of those things but… Losing you. Taking you somewhere that could get you killed…” He gave a soft laugh, barely above a sharp breath. “Sounds a lot stupider out loud than in my head.”

“That should be your slogan, Mac.” Sole joked, but she didn't smile. The world was starting to come into focus again, but the banging in her head was growing more distracting. There was usually some water in her gear, so she started to make her way off the bed. The pain intensified, she managed her breathing to keep her going.

“Hey take it easy!” He snapped, moving to help her up, but she waved away his hands.

“I can… Make it across the room. Thank you… Very much.” She mumbled, pausing to swallow down the bile that kept trying to crawl up her throat. She tottered to her gear, rifling through for her can of purified water. Her fingers found it and she cracked it open, drinking it down greedily. She finished, took a gasp of breath, and tossed the empty can on the floor.

“Guess it's the maids problem now.” Macready joked nervously.

“Shut up, R.J.” Sole muttered, loud enough for him to hear. His jaw set into a firm frown, the nickname always struck a nerve with him. She stood at the dresser for a moment, collecting thoughts. 

She looked down at herself, she was still wearing Irma’s rose dress. She needed her own armor to deal with this. Her Vault suit was still at the memory den, but she had some road leathers she’d been keeping just in case. 

She slipped the dress off over her head, setting it on the dresser to keep it neat. 

“Should I uh… Go?” Macready asked, swallowing. Sole refused to turn around, but she smirked. His face was undoubtedly flushed red as a tato. 

“Why? Not like you haven't seen it all before.” Sole noted casually, bending down to get the road leathers and Combat armor. There was a heavy silence, Macready stayed on the bed, frozen to the spot. She started sliding on the jeans, the denim hugging close to the skin. 

“So, uh…” He swallowed, but tried to keep the conversation going. “Are you… Still mad at me?” She sighed, pulling the jeans over her hips, more snug than last she tried them on. 

“Mad? Who’s mad?” She asked, grabbing a ratty tshirt two sizes too big. “I told you I understand why you left.” She took her time slipping the shirt on, she heard another audible swallow. “You alright, R.J.? Need a can of water? You sound a little thirsty.” She tugged the shirt over her head and pulled it down. He coughed, trying to clear his throat.

“Does that mean… You forgive me?” He asked hesitantly. She froze, hands wrapped in her leather jacket. 

“No.” She answered coldly. That was all she had to say on it, and he was smart enough not to press. She resumed putting on the leather jacket. 

“Figured as much.” He sighed, finally moving off the bed, now that his blood flow was moving north. “Any chance that…” He said before he could stop himself.

“Chance that I’ll change my mind?” She asked sharply. He flinched back. “Forgive you for leaving without notice? Not long after I told you I loved you?” Oh he’d screwed up. He cringed into his hat, pulling it over his face. “I couldn't have been that bad in bed. I certainly didn't hear any complaints when I-”

“Jeez ok I’m sorry!” He cut in. “I messed up!” She chuckled softly. She’d missed getting under his skin like this. She turned to him, smiling gently. 

“Mac…” She started, starting to grow more sentimental now that her headache was fading. “Not two days ago I was drowning at the bottom of a bottle, trying to get over you.” She looked away, moving towards the door. “And at the end of it I did.” She opened her hotel door and looked back at him. “I'm going to start packing now, you can come back when I’m done and do what you want with the room.”

“You don't have to leave because of me-” Macready started but she shook her head.

“No, I decided this before…” She explained. 

“What would you have done with my stuff?” Macready asked jokingly. “I hope you wouldn’t have burnt it, those comics are pretty rare.” 

“Probably would have given it to Daisy.” She guessed. He nodded, glad it wasn't malicious. He headed out the door, pausing in the hall. 

“For what it's worth,” He said, voice hitching. “Duncan would have loved you.” She swung the door shut, locking it quickly. He stayed there a moment from shock, the suddenness catching him off guard. He put a hand on the door silently, as if trying to feel her through the plywood. He rested his forehead against it, closing his eyes. Then, in the stillness of the hotel, he heard quiet, broken sobs. The kind when you cover your mouth, choking on the words you want to scream out, and tears bleed down, soaking your shirt. The sobs you make when you are desperate that nobody hear you. Mccready knew that sound all too well.

He started down the hall, heading back to the place they had first met. It was his turn to drown his sorrows... 

●~~~~~~~~~~●

__  


\------------------

**Week 3 in the wasteland**  


**_In Which the Sole Survivor Leaves the Memory Den, worse for wear_ **

\------------------

 _He’s ten years old. Ten years old at least. Eight years lost._

Sole was shaking as she left the Memory Den. Kellogg’s memories revealed a lot. The merc once had a life, a family… And he’d looked after her son. Her ten year old. He was after someone in the Glowing Sea… All information she should have passed on to the RailRoad. Information she **Had** to pass on to the RailRoad… She was walking past the Old State House, when the sound of slow blues came from the The Third Rail. 

_One drink. One drink to steady her nerves…_

————————-

If she closed her eyes, it was easy to pretend she was in any other dive bar before the war. There used to be this one in Cambridge, near her old University, where she and her friends used to go between classes. Glasses clinking against metal tables, the choking scent of cigarettes, floors sticky with beer… 

But when she opened her eyes she was back in the Third Rail, and she was sure if she closed her eyes again, someone would steal the clothes off her back. Sole walked up to the bar, the Mr. Handy behind the counter was polishing a glass with a dirty rag. A chill went down her spine. It reminded her of Codsworth, and how he tried to kill her. She shook the memory from her head. She needed a drink. 

“What’ll it be?” The Handy asked gruffly, a stark departure from the usual British Butler voice. A welcome departure. She sat down at the bar, scanning the bottom shelf liquor. It was all she could afford right now. “Nothin’s watered down.”

“A beer, I guess.” She sighed, putting down 12 caps. He swiped the caps away and replaced them with a warm beer from the shelf. It was feeling more like that college dive bar every moment. The Mr. Handy snapped the cap off for her and she took a swig. It was flat, warm, and 100 years out of date. Now it felt exactly like a pre-war dive bar, though maybe a little cleaner. 

“You’re a new face,” He noted, going back to polishing his glass. “In town for business or pleasure?” Sole downed her beer while he was talking, clinking it back down on the wooden table. 

“Neither.” She replied. She hadn’t come here to make caps, or have a good time. 

“The names Whitechapel Charlie,” The Mr. Handy pressed on. “You got a name?”

“Nope.” Sole replied, putting down another 12 caps. Charlie swapped them for another beer, cracking off the cap. 

“Alright, not a talker, I get it.” The Mr Handy muttered. From behind her, she heard heavy boots coming down the stairs. She glanced back in time to see two Gunners entering the bar. She turned back to her beer, she’d had enough problems with them, she didn’t need more. She took a long drink from her bottle, already reaching into her pocket for twelve more caps. She should’ve just got a bottle of something stronger. She fished out the caps, but when she put them down, there was only 8 caps. Crap. 

“Now that you're liquored up, got a proposition for ya...” Charlie started, leaning forward, volume set a few decibels lower. “I need a dirty girl to do some dirty, dirty work. Blood on the pavement. Bodies in the ground. That kind of thing. Interested?” She finished her beer, clunking it hard on the counter. Barely buzzed. 

“Not my kinda work.” Sole spat. She’d fallen pretty low since her lofty days as an attorney, but she hadn’t stooped to murder for cash. 

“I weren’t programmed yesterday, birdy.” He chuckled. “My combat scans are working just fine, and I think it’s right up your alley... but all right, mate. I ain't gonna stop you if you wanna walk away from all these caps I'm offerin'.” She was broke, and far too sober. Nates voice was somewhere in her head, probably telling her not to do it. But he was dead. 

“How much?” She asked, not looking into his lenses.

“The job's 200 caps.” Charlie said. “Payment after it's done. And don't worry... I'll know when it is.” She was quiet, looking down at her hands clasped on the bar. “I got a certain anonymous client who's payin' top dollar for a cleanup job. Three locations. Everyone inside. No witnesses. Only catch? It's all in town, in the old warehouses, so I can't use my regulars. Too noticeable. That's where you come in.” He explained. That was a lot of work for 200 caps.

“Three locations? That's a lot of time... A lot of bullets…” She mused, eyes glancing up at him. 

“I guess we could sweeten the pot a bit. 250.” He muttered begrudgingly. Not good enough. 

“Wonder what the people in the warehouses would pay to find out who hired me to kill them...” Sole asked thoughtfully. “Something closer to 400 caps…?”

“Givin' me a right kick in the Alberts... We'll make it 400, but that's as high as I'm goin'.” Charlie grumbled. Sole smirked. “Now I ain't playin' ring-around-the-Rosie with no hired gun. I’m offerin' 400 for the job, and 400 is what you'll get. When you do the job.” That was good enough for her. 

“Sure thing, Charlie,” Sole agreed. “Be right back.” She slid off her bar stool and started towards the door, when she heard a commotion from the V.I.P. room. Ignore it. You gotta job. She thought, forcing one foot in front of another. There was a shatter of glass. Not my business, not my problem. But her feet were frozen to the floor. There were heavy footsteps coming from the V.I.P. lounge, combat boots against the sticky floor. One of the Gunners pushed past her to get to the stairs, the other glaring at her as they left. Ignore him. Just get out there and- A figure came out of the V.I.P. lounge, dark expression on his face, heading to the bar. 

“Charlie, I changed my mind. How about that job?” He asked, a desperate edge to his voice. Glimmers of broken glass in his hat and on his long duster coat. 

“Bit late, Mac, already found someone who doesn’t turn their nose up at a bit o’ violence.” The Mr Handy informed him gruffly. 

“Who was stupid enough to take you up on it?” Mac asked in frustration. “Had to be someone pretty low if they’re hitting the Triggermen-” The Mr, Handy clamped a metal hand over the mans mouth.

“Keep your voice down, this was supposed to be on the down low.” Charlie hissed, before releasing him. 

“Tell me who you hired and I’ll keep my mouth shut.” The man reasoned. That was her cue to leave. Now. 

She started up the stairs just as the Mr. Handy pointed a robotic arm in her direction. Crap. She hadn’t made it out by the time a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around, ready to knock his lights out, but stopped. He had his hands up already in surrender, his eyes wide and desperate. 

“What do you want?” She demanded, fists still up and at the ready. 

“Look, hear me out.” He blurted hurriedly, “There’s no way Charlie was straight with you about this job.”

“It sounded like a pretty simple courier job.” She said with a shrug. “I courier bullets into bodies.”

“You ever dealt with trigger men?” He asked seriously, ignoring her joke.

“If I can shoot them, then i’ll be fine.” She replied in annoyance. He groaned in frustration. 

“There are going to be at least a hundred of them in these warehouses, not to mention how many will be after you once the job is done.” The man pointed out angrily. 

“So I don’t leave witnesses.” She replied, rubbing her head where a headache was starting. “Do you have some kind of point?”

“Bring me a long, I’ll watch your back, and we can split the caps.” He said, as if it was the obvious option. 

“Or I do it myself, and keep all the caps.” She said, already turning to leave the subway steps. 

“Ok, 150 caps, and we split what’s on the bodies.” He tried again, desperation creeping into his voice. She glanced back at him. She could see him better in the afternoon light. His clothes were dingy, except for the scarf around his neck which seemed well looked after. The other noticeable thing was that he treated bullets like a fashion accessory. Bullets in his hat? Seemed unnecessary. Having someone to cover her would save on ammo and stimpaks...

“100, and we split the loot.” She offered. He gritted his teeth and nodded. “Alright then, we have an accord. Nice to meet you...”

“...Macready.”

"Nice to meet ya Mac, I'm Sole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this one done a little sooner than expected, next one should be out soon. In the next chapter, Sole and Hancock actually get their show on the road!
> 
> Edit: Got the next chapter ready, but I keep wanting to go back to flashbacks to explain a few things. I think this is going to be the last time I use a flashback. I am going to have it reviewed, then up by tomorrow. (May 6th, 2019) After that, I should be able to make it all present day stuff. Thanks to everyone still reading this.


	8. No one likes being Railroaded

She packed the last of her supplies into a duffle bag, zipping it closed with difficulty. It was a downsize from her last one, which sat in a corner, empty. She had to pack only the essentials, none of the sentimental garbage she usually kept around. Stimpaks, Med-x, and bullets. She looked down at her shotgun. It was battered beyond belief from clearing out those Super Mutants. One more shot and it might be more lethal for her than what she was aiming at. It would have to stay behind. Instead she picked up a 10 mm. Her first weapon out in the Wastes, and still had the chill from the vault on it. It was the same weapon she’d used to kill Codsworth. Her eyes glanced at her pip-boy, before flicking back to the weapon. She stashed it in a holster she’d looted from a police station, it felt safer than shoving it in her pocket. 

The last thing she needed to get was locked in a safe, in a locked metal box, wrapped in blankets to keep it intact. She bent down to the safe, spinning in the combination. Half the Commonwealth would kill her for it. She opened the door, and slid the box out. She had a back pack free, it would fit snugly in there. 

Inside was the culmination of her efforts. Killing Kellogg, going to the Glowing Sea, killing a Courser… It was time she stopped putting this off. It was time she found Shaun.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a knock at her door. Her stomach sunk, it had better not be Mac. 

“Come in!” She called, shoving the box into her canvas backpack. The door creaked open, and in stepped the familiar black boots of the Mayor. 

“You ready to hit the road, Sister?” He asked, smiling wide. She gave a small sigh of relief as she stood up, shouldering the backpack. He let out a whistle, eyeing the backpack and dufflebag. “There are faster ways to cripple yourself than trying to lug all that.”

“Believe it or not, this is an improvement.” She laughed, picking the duffle bag off the bed. It was full but pretty lightweight compared to what she used to carry. Hancock couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t touching any of her momentos. Sure someone'll put it to good use. He thought to himself. 

“Alright, Let’s do it.” Hancock grinned, “Time to get this show on the road.”

\-----------------------------------------

The ruins were filled with the echoes of firefights and creaking structures. The air was hot and dry, a dusty wind turning over empty bottles and old plastic. Sole and Hancock moved through the cracked streets, wary of their surroundings. She stopped under the shade of a mouldy store canopy to take off her road leather jacket off; heatstroke seemed more likely to kill her than a bullet at this point. Hancock paused, smiling.

“Just the jacket?” He asked in mock disappointment. In response she tossed the sweaty leather garment at him to carry. 

“I hate this heat…” Sole muttered bitterly, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I used to love it, but man, after coming out of that Vault all it does is piss me off.” It was hard to believe she used look forward to summer, long hot days and getting an all over tan… But that was when clean running water came on tap, air conditioning was standard, and her car wasn’t a rusted out piece of scrap.

“Can’t complain myself,” Hancock added, stuffing the jacket into his bag. “Since I made myself the King of the Zombies, heat’s been kinda hard to hold onto.” 

“So you really _are_ cold-blooded.” She joked. He chuckled, glad to have lightened her mood a bit. 

“Could be,” He admitted. He looked around for a moment. “Where are we headed, anyway?” He hadn’t thought to ask, they’d just taken off as soon as they could. 

“I promised our mutual friends I’d return to the fold for a bit.” She sighed. “Been putting off progression for awhile now.” She looked tired, and every step was reluctant. Hancock thought for a moment, trying to figure out who their mutual friends were… Until the church came into view. 

“I’m all for fighting the good fight, Sister.” He started hesitantly. “But if your heart ain’t in it, you don’t have to…”

“No, I need to do this.” She said, breathing out. “I’ve been putting it off for all the wrong reasons.”

\-----------------------------------------

“Hey Charmer and- hey did you clear this with Des?” Drummer boy met them at the entrance, but was startled by the addition of Hancock. He didn't look like he was going to let them pass. 

She sighed and dug something out of her rucksack. It looked to the ghoul like some kind of metal golf ball wedged into a light fixture. “Tell Tinker Tom I got him a Courser chip, and tell ‘Des’ i’m going to step on it repeatedly if we don’t get inside in the next 2 minutes.” Drummer boy nearly jumped out of the way to let them pass. 

“Someone spit in your cereal, Charmer?” One of the agents remarked as she stepped into the office. She ignored them and went to Tinker Tom. Behind her, she could hear hushed, angry voices. 

_“Did you know? Deacon, answer me, did you know she was holding on to that?”_

_“Desdemona, it hardly matters if he knew, we have it now.”_

_“But what else is she keeping from us?”_

She set the chip on his desk, waiting for Tom to notice. He was in the midst of modding a pistol, when he reached for some duct tape and his hands brushed the metal edges of the chip. He froze, as if his fingertips could taste sensitive institute information. 

He took it, looking up to see Sole, hands on her hips. She could feel the eyes of everyone around her, especially the ones watching her from behind tinted glass. 

She never realised until then she kinda hated it here. 

_“You said we could trust her.”_

_“We can, Des.”_

\-----------------------------------------

“What was that all about?” Hancock demanded, they were walking out the back entrance of HQ. “They’re the good guys, remember?” Sole sighed, looking around for hostiles. There were some ferals stumbling around in the distance, and some dormant Mirelurks near the waterfront before them. She started moving away from them without a word. “Hey, your chems just kick in? I’m talking to you killer!” Oh she _**hated**_ that nickname. 

But Sole had to calm down. She’d let her anger get the better of her, and now she was taking it out on everybody. That wasn’t a luxury she could afford. 

She found an abandoned storefront, her pipboy indicating no immediate threats, and slipped inside, Hancock following. She took breaths the whole way there, until she could sit down behind an ancient counter, thick with dust and debris.

“That was… Rude of me.” She admitted evenly.

“You told them to fuck off and build their own teleporter.” Hancock recalled with annoyance, getting out a cigarette. 

“I’ve done everything they asked of me and _**more**_.” She argued. “I went to the Glowing Sea, I killed a fucking **Courser**! And now they want me to go grocery shopping for them to get little odds and ends? And on top of that, hold their hand and find somewhere to build their hulking great machine that might not even work?!” Hancock looked at her, there was something else, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. 

He very quietly, took a single loose mentat from his pocket, making sure she was looking the other way, and popped it in his mouth when he took the next drag on his cigarette. He was careful chewing it, so it didn’t make a sound, and immediately it started doing its magic. 

The way she spoke, the way she acted, something was weighing her down. She was dancing around something obvious…

“All this was for a reason though.” Hancock observed. She pursed her lips. “No one goes to the Glowing Sea for something they don’t believe in.” There was a pause.

“My son…” She whispered, only just loud enough for him to hear. He nearly choked. He wasn’t expecting that. “The institute… They took my son, killed my husband… This was all to get him back…”

“What’s changed?” He asked, trying to roll with the revelation. “I mean, you seemed to be a big deal in there.”

“... I want to say, ‘heartbreak’, but even I know that’s a lie.” She started.

“Well, you were pretty broken up over the sniper…” Hancock noted. She gave a sad chuckle. 

“Oh no, this was before him… But that’s another story.” She explained. “This was when I still really believed I could get my baby back…” The ghoul wanted to tell her she still could, but the mentats told him to stay quiet, listen to the rest of the story. 

“I even killed the man who murdered Nate, and took all that was left of the bastard to poke around in his memories. That’s when I saw him… My baby boy… Shaun.” Her voice hitched, but she cleared her throat and carried on. “He was… Ten. He was only two when we were frozen… That’s eight whole years of his life I missed.” She took some steadying breaths. “But even then, he was still out of reach. Anything could have happened. I met an institute scientist… The experiments he used to perform… Ever since I’ve had this feeling. This dark, evil feeling that whatever is waiting for me at the institute, isn’t going to be good.” 

They were silent while that sunk in. Sounds of the ruins went on around them. The faint gunfire, the distant explosions of cars. Hancock offered a cigarette to Sole to calm her nerves, she took it, but just held it. The simple act helped get her thoughts together. 

“I’ve been putting all this off, because until I know otherwise, my baby is still that, _**my baby**_.” She sighed, twirling the cigarette between her fingers. “But while I sit on my ass, the institute is hurting people, taking away more babies. It’s about time they caught hell for it.” Hancock pulled himself up, offering up a hand.

“Now that’s something I can get behind.” He said with a smile. “Get up Sunshine, and we’ll start that grocery list.”

\-----------------------------------------

__  


**Week 3 In the Wasteland**

  


\-----------------------------------------

__  


Just a week with the Railroad and she was already on the trail to finding her son. When she first sat in front of Valentines desk, desperate against the odds to find Shaun, things had seemed hopeless. But now she had a crack detective, a spunky canine, and a slick spy to track down the bastard who killed her husband. Suddenly, things were coming together.

“Hey, Boss, the mutts found something!” Deacon called, as Sole and Nick caught up to them. She and the old synth weren’t exactly up for cross country running across the Commonwealth. They slowed to a stop near the edge of a stagnant pond. Dogmeat was sniffing around a folding chair, an old ashtray beside it.

“Don’t call him that!” She scolded, petting the dog affectionately. “He’s a good boy and has a name.”

“‘Dog meat’ isn’t really up there for cute pet names.” Deacon shrugged. Dog meat looked up, tilting his head a little. It was definitely not the name she would have chosen. The pooch went back to his sniffing, nuzzling a half burnt cigar, stubbed out in the tray. 

“Looks like he was here alright, let’s see if he can get the scent again,” Nick observed. He picked cigar up and held it out for Dogmeat. The Dog snuffed it a little, before barking and running off down through the wasteland.

Sole wasn’t sure how tracking worked, but she was sure it was supposed to be harder than this. The whole way from Diamond city, they’d found a reliable breadcrumb trail of clues. It felt like a trap, but somehow it didn’t feel like it was meant for them. She slowed her pace as Nick started off after Dog Meat again. Deacon looked back at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Cap for your thoughts?” He asked, reaching into his jeans pocket to reveal a single dented cap. She smiled, and nodded. He flipped it to her with a practiced flick of his thumb and she caught it, pocketing it. They started after Nick and the dog.

“Seems a little too easy...” She admitted warily. “I didn’t put a lot of stock in a dog to track someone across the Wastes.”

“Maybe Kellogg smells a lot like Cram, Dogs love that stuff.” Deacon suggested with a shrug. “Or maybe you just underestimated the mutt’s canine instinct.” 

“I recall you having some reservations as well.” Sole pointed out. Honestly, they’d only come back to this harebrained scheme because they had no other lead to Kellogg. 

“So desperate times call for desperate measures.” He admitted. Then there was a bark in the distance. Dogmeat had found something. 

“Man, I could have used that dog when I was trying to find my way to Diamond city.” Sole muttered as they picked up their pace. “‘Big Spotlights, Large Green Walls’, I could sure see them, but navigating the roads to it was a nightmare.”

“And yet you found us without a problem.” Deacon observed. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her, or was suspicious. Could have been both.

“Well, I followed the Freedom Trail in the 5th grade, so I knew where it ended.” Sole said, recalling the trip bitterly. “Though, I didn’t remember it being quite as _interactive_.” She kept an eye out, careful with what she said. Deacon always told her anyone could be listening, even out here. 

“Can’t imagine your school would have signed off on a trip like that now.” Deacon joked. “It’s murder trying to get a super mutant to sign a health and safety waiver.” 

It wasn’t long before Dogmeat led them to a military compound. Some Fort or another that probably felt really important 200 years ago, but now it was just another well guarded ruin. They passed through some rusted fencing, littered with warning signs that didn’t mean a damn anymore. Four turrets were visible, but there were probably more. The Dog led them straight up to the front door, after avoiding a spray of bullets. Dogmeat barked happily, sitting down, tail thumping against the dusty concrete.

“I knew Dogmeat would sniff out our man, and to think you doubted him. How about we take it from here and give our four-legged friend a break.” The Dog barked and promptly started trotting back to whence he came, where ever that was. 

“Better watch out Nick, that mutt’s gong to put you out of business with that nose of his.” Deacon joked. Nick shook his head and just headed into the Fort. Deacon looked back at Sole, who took a deep breath and followed him in. 

\-----------------------------------------

That voice, taunting her over the intercom. Every wave of synths only strengthened her drive to reach him. 

_“If it isn't my old friend, the frozen TV dinner. Last time we met, you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler.”_

She couldn’t wait to shove her shot gun into that guys mouth.

_“Hmph. Never expected you to come knocking on my door. Gave you 50/50 odds of making it to Diamond City. After that? Figured the Commonwealth would chew you up like jerky.”_

“Glad this guy isn’t picking my horses.” Sole muttered. “Trick is, always bet on the long shot.”

“Didn’t think you were a gambling woman.” Nick muttered, stepping over the remains of a gen 1. They were getting closer, she could feel it. 

_“You've got guts and determination, and that's admirable. But you are in over your head in ways you can't possibly comprehend.”_

“No change there.” She said through gritted teeth, loading another two slugs into her shotgun. Deacon gave her a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, guys just trying to scare you off.” Deacon said, silenced pistol at the ready for the next wave of synths. Nick was quiet, his face set with grim determination. 

_“It's not too late. Stop. Turn around and leave. You have that option. Not a lot of people can say that.”_

_Not a chance_. Sole thought. They got to the last door. He was on the other side.

_“Okay, you made it. I'm just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let's talk.”_

Sole held her shotgun tightly, the adrenaline starting to surge through her veins. She didn’t know if she could even speak. Sole swallowed, trying to claw back some strength to her voice. Her heart almost seemed to vibrate in her chest. It was like being out of that Vault for the first time all over again. Alone. Again. Her breath caught. Then there was a hand on her shoulder, familiar finger tips. She turned, and Deacon was there, smiling reassuringly. He reached for her hand, and pressed something into her palm. She looked down to see something familiar, its tinted glass reflecting the buzzing fluorescent lights. 

“Sunglasses?” She asked, a laugh choked in her throat. He nodded, and she took a breath, putting them on. 

“You got this.” Deacon whispered, patting her shoulder. She turned back to the door and put on the shades. She felt a wave of calm help her focus.

The door swung open with a click, revealing a dim, red-lit room. She walked in slowly, and there he stood. She froze. He looked the same. Maybe a bit older, but there were things that time couldn’t change. Like that look in his eye, the cold killer look. After this, would she have that same look?

“Let’s talk...You came a long way. Let’s hear it.” He said almost gently. His voice was slow, as if reluctant to finish each sentence. 

“Where is he?” She demanded. “Where’s my boy?” He crossed his arms.

“Hmph. Lady, I'm just a puppet like you. My stage is a little bigger, that's all.” He said with annoyance. “Shaun's a good kid. So maybe he's not quite a "baby" anymore. But he's doing great. Only... he's not here. He's with the people pulling the strings.” Her stomach fell. Deacon, Nick and Sole knew who he meant. No three people knew better.

“The Institute...” She breathed grimly. That was a blow, but at least he was alive. That’s all that she needed. She grinned, and now it was Kellogg who froze.

“The Institute, huh? Well I'll find him, no matter where he is. Nothing will stop me” She said, a new confidence welling inside her. 

“God, you're persistent. I'll give you credit. It's the way a parent should act. The way I'd be acting if I were in your place, I like to think. Even if it is useless.” Kellogg spat, now clicking the safety off his pistol. “In another life, you probably would have been a good mother. But here... in this terrible reality? You just don't get that chance. But I think we've been talking long enough. We both know how this has to end. So... you ready?” 

_“You know I am, Kellogg.”_

\-----------------------------------------

“Good Job, that bastard won’t be hurting anyone else.” Nick congratulated as the last synth hit the floor. But she could barely hear him over the buzzing in her head. It was over. “We should take a look around, get all the intel this place can hide.” Kellogg was at her feet. Her shotgun had excavated a hole in his chest. It was gruesome, and she couldn’t stop staring. Nick came over slowly, stooping down to the body. He let out a low whistle.

“You see this thing in his ear?” He asked, pointing to some kind of ear piece she hadn’t noticed. “Looks like the same tech they put in my head. And here in his chest, more actuators… The guy was more tech than human. Not that I can talk.” He looked up at her and his face fell. “Kid, you alright? It’s over now.” It wasn’t. Shaun was still out there, her husband was still dead. The sunglasses hid the tears welling up. 

“Hey Nick, could you do some recon outside?” Deacon asked softly from behind them. “Don’t want to walk out of this into some ambush.” The old detective nodded and headed out towards the back entrance. She stayed, eyes starting to spill over. Deacon was silent. 

“How am I going to get my baby back…?” She croaked. She swallowed, she couldn’t let it out. Not now. Deacon walked closer, checking over Kellogg's corpse. He pulled out a holotape from the merc's bloodied pockets, before glancing up at her.

“You, uh, might want to close your eyes for a moment.” He warned, his hand going to Kelloggs ear. She shut her eyes, but she could hear the crack of skull, and a squelch of brain matter being pulled apart. “Urk, didn’t need this before lunch… Ok it’s done.” She opened her eyes, but quickly shut them again. His head was cracked open, the ear piece recovered from deep in the mercs brain. “Sorry, but it might give us an idea about what we’re dealing with.” She swallowed, stepping back and turning away from the scene. “Hey, this tape was on him. Try it on that terminal over there.” She took the holotape with shaking fingers, unable to speak another word. 

**Access Log**

**Access: Local. Login: Kellogg**

**Notes: The boy, Shaun, successfully delivered back to the Institute, payment received. New orders to track down renegade, gathered reinforcements, cleared out and secured Fort Hagen. We move out soon.**

It was true. Her baby was there. And the renegade..? And why here…? Her head was swimming as she turned away from the terminals blinking screen. 

“At least we know he was telling the truth.” Deacon affirmed. “Doesn’t get a whole lot closer, but it’s a hellova start.” He waited for a quick witted reply, a snarky retort, anything that said she was ok. 

“I was just holding him three weeks ago...” She whispered. “He had just turned two… And I was holding him.” She felt her legs start to give beneath her, she sat on one of the cluttered desks. “We were getting ready for Halloween… We were going to the park to play catch...” Tears fell thick, burning into her. “Nate… He was going to give a speech at the Veterans Hall. And now he’s... I’m alone...” Somewhere in the back of her head, she’d hoped killing Kellogg would solve something… But it hadn’t…

“Sole, you got half the Commonwealth behind you.” Deacon pointed out. “You’re part of a great big dysfunctional family that will help you get your kid back.” She looked over at him, his sunglasses lowered, “I promise, you’ll see your son.” She gave a smile, swallowing to clear her throat.

“Thanks Deac,” She thanked, taking the glasses off to wipe her eyes. “I don’t think I’d have made it this far without you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged. “Seriously, don’t mention it. I got a reputation to maintain.” Before she knew it, she found herself leaning forward, and for a moment he didn’t move away. Only a moment. He stepped back, pulling away, trying to laugh it off. Her face burned. 

“Uh, good talk boss.” He chuckled, as if nothing had happened. “How about you take this to Nick, he’ll have a better idea of what to do with it than I would.” He almost shoved the ear piece and accompanying brain matter to her. She took it, partly in shock. “I’m going to stick around here and see what intel I can pick up.” She nodded, swallowing and almost ran out of the room. 

It wasn’t how she imagined killing Kellogg would go.


	9. Falling For You Was Easy

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shopping trip went uneventfully. It wasn’t hard to get what they needed, after hitting up a few hardware stores. It almost felt like the days before the war, except she was replacing coupons with bullets.

They found a little alleyway near Diamond city that had a firepit and beds. Sole recognised the place, she’d cleared it out of Raiders months ago. It was surprising no one had moved in since then. Since she was here though, it wouldn’t hurt to install a few turrets to keep the neighbors from getting too friendly. She looked at her pip-boy map, and noted it’d named this place ‘Hangman’s Alley’. Not exactly a welcoming title.

“You think that’s enough magnets?” Sole asked, looking in her rucksack as they sat at their camp. 

“If not, I’m sure we can pick up a few more from ’Dickhead’ City.” Hancock suggested. “Only as a last resort though.” He started a fire under the cooking pot. “What are you in the mood for, I take requests.” 

“Well we got enough water from the last settlement we helped to make a stew… Mix some carrots, corn, and noodles together… But it will need some protein.” She looked through her bag. There was a dented tin of cram, but not much else. 

“How does mirelurk sound?” She asked, getting up. Hancock looked at her incredulously, ready to object. “Yeah, too late, I got a taste for it now. Be back in 10 minutes, tops.” 

“Hold it, Sister, you sure you want to take those on without backup?” He asked, starting to get up. 

“Yeah I’m sure. Besides, you need to guard camp, get the stew ready, etc.” She argued. “I can handle a few crabs. Been doing it since college.” She chuckled at the joke that flew over his head. Hancock wanted to protest, but it wasn't worth arguing with a force of nature.

\-------------------------------

She found a good perch from the second story of an old house that sat by the waterfront. She settled herself into position, looking down her scope at the waterfront. She could see a few soft shells guarding some eggs, a razorclaw nearby guarding them… But there was usually a Hunter around a cluster of this size. If she could find it away from the rest, she’d have some meat. Plus, the Hunters had a nicer taste, less bland. 

She finally tracked one, the slight iridescence of its carapace made it hard to miss. She followed it with her crosshairs, watching it roam the perimeter of the nest, making mostly predictable paths. She just needed to wait for it to go out to the edge of the nest again, then she could take the shot. 

There were footsteps on the floorboards behind her, but she kept her focus on the hunter. The steps got closer, the figure looming over her. She stayed put, took a breath, and made the shot. The mirelurk hunter explode into meaty chunks. She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“If you plan on killing me, go ahead. If not, I have dinner to make.” She said in annoyance. 

“Well, mom always said I’d wind up in contract assassination.” A voice came from behind her. “But maybe not today, just got this disguise dry cleaned.” She started to disassemble her set up, from the stand on which she perched her rifle, and then the rifle itself.

“Lucky me.” She muttered. Deacon was leaning against a dilapidated dresser, blown apart from some disaster or another.

“You know, I get the feeling you don't **actually** mean that.” He observed. She slid all the pieces back into her rucksack. 

“And I get the feeling you’ve been stalking us since we left HQ.” Sole said evenly. “So you know what we’ve been up to.”

“Scouring the waste land for microscopes and hot plates. A noble quest indeed.” Deacon noted. “Am I to assume it's all for our cause? The one you promptly shat on not 48 hours ago?” 

“Not a proud moment.” Sole admitted, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “But I’m making it right.” 

“No, you’re trying to bribe your way into our good graces.” Deacon said bitterly. “Pretty hard to take on the Commonwealth boogeyman armed with nothing but a gun and a positive attitude.”

“Who accused me of having as much as that?” Sole asked with an empty laugh. “Watch me do it with three well placed paperclips, a rubber band, and a turkey baster.” 

“See who’s laughing when you are up to your neck in Gen 1’s and out of witty retorts.” Deacon cautioned. Sole walked past him and went to the stairs, carefully stepping to avoid the holes. 

“Me? Run out of witty retorts? You’re Intel is worse than your disguises.” Sole spat behind her. He followed her down the stairs, his sneakers cautiously treading over each step.

“Oh now you’re just being mean.” Deacon said, hugging the metal banister as he made his way down. He tentatively made the next step, but made the mistake of putting too much weight on the rickety stair. There was a creak of wood, then a _ **crack**_. Sole stopped. Deacon was frozen, one wrong move would send him into the debris below. 

They both looked down, the floor was scattered with sharp splintered wood and broken metal. 

“At least there's a soft landing…” Deacon muttered. Sole was quickly getting in the same situation, the steps she was on were groaning under her weight. She looked around, there wasn't much. She looked at the bannister Deacon held onto. It was rickety, but the enameled metal went all the way to the ground. Safely over the debris. 

“Hey Deacon, you ever think about sliding down the railing when you go into a metro? Or a broken escalator in a Fallon’s department store?” She asked, grabbing onto the bannister to secure it more.

“Now is really not the time to-” Deacon started, but a crack of wood shook him and he leapt onto the banister, propelling himself down as fast as he could until he fell off at the bottom, collapsing to the ground. Sole sighed in relief.

Then there was another _**crack**_. She felt the floor fall away beneath her, sending her tumbling down into the debris. She slammed against the splintered wood, feeling the shards drive into her skin. She cried out, the sound almost crushed out of her throat on impact, before her body rolled to a stop on a fractured slab of cement. 

She was in shock, her heart was pounding, ears buzzing with white noise, vision fuzzy… Could she still move? At first there was nothing, her limbs stayed limp on the ground. She couldn't move. Terror gripped her, she was paralysed. Then it came back to her, her mind remembering how to move her body. She tried to sit up, but the shock that had been numbing her suddenly lifted. She gasped, a deluge of agony rippling through her. Her ribs were very very broken. She lay on the slab, trembling with pain, trying to stifle the tremors with short breaths, closing her eyes. She had survived raiders, gunners, super mutants, and particularly spirited radroaches… And now she would die to gravity, that most cruel Mistress. If she could still laugh, the building would have rung with the sound.

“Hey Charmer, buddy, talk to me…” Deacon called down. She almost smiled at his voice. Almost. At least if she died here, he would tell it as a more interesting end. She tried her best to respond through the pain.

“That… That’s… Going to bruise…” She called back weakly. She coughed, there was a lot of dust in air now, made it a little hard to breathe. Fractured bone digging into her lungs made it difficult as well. 

“Don't scare me like that!” Deacon called, looking for a safe way over to her. Cement and rebar blocked most of his path, but if he could squeeze through, he could check on her. 

Then there was a scuttling sound behind him. The Mirelurks nearby had come to inspect the commotion. Deacon scanned the surroundings, the crabs were making their way quickly from the waterfront, but didn't seem to have spotted them yet. 

He didn't have much on him, but he did have the vodka bottle Sole had left him, the shirt on his back, and most crucially a lighter. But he only had one of each.

He quickly assembled a molotov, stripping off and stuffing the whole shirt into the bottle.

He took a breath, lit it, and lobbed it as far from the building as he could, landing with an explosive crash on the other side of the street. He held his breath. The scuttling stopped.

The creature inspected the scene, before returning to the nest, its curiosity satisfied. Deacon took a breath. At least that crisis was averted.

He returned his attention to Sole. If another Mirelurk came near and found her, she was as good as dead. If she didn't get a stimpak soon she was as good as dead. If her wounds weren't tended to soon, she was as good as- Actually he hadn't heard anything from her. She could be dead already.

Deacon carefully made his way through the cement and rebar, and tread over the splintered wood to where she lay. He stopped as soon as he saw her. Her face was pale, it took him a second to notice it was from the concrete dust, coating her hair and eyebrows, as if she’d been there for years. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was laboured. Blood seeped down the stone slab she lay on, dripping into a puddle on to the dusty ground. The splintered wood she’d hit was lanced into her side, soaked with blood. For once he was speechless, and a little nauseous. 

“Still… Alive…” She managed, trying to move, but wincing in pain. He knelt beside her. “Just… Resting…” He couldn't move her, not by himself. He’d cause more damage even attempting.

_The kindest thing to do, would be to end her now. If he could._

She knew what he was thinking. She knew him too well. The least she could do was give him enough time to do it. 

“Tell… Me…” She whispered quietly. He leaned close to hear her. “... A… Story…” He held his breath. It was the only thing he was good at. He sat up beside her, clearing his throat. It was the least he could do for her.

“I ever tell you about the time I sailed to Greenland?” He started, keeping his voice quiet in case of hostiles. “Meant to just sail up the coast to another Railroad outpost, but time and tide had other ideas…” He looked down, she stirred a little. “Tell you what, if you think the Yao-gui are bad here, you try a polar bear. Big as a deathclaw, and twice as deadly.” She just kept breathing, he couldn't even tell if she was awake. “Heard that one, huh? Yeah I figured. How about this one.” He swallowed, trying to quietly clear his throat. He took off his sunglasses so he could take one last look at her. Without the filter, she looked so much more feeble, he could see all the cuts and bruises on her face. She was in so much pain... 

“This story is about… A Vault dweller.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “She woke up in a barren hellscape, having lost everyone she ever loved, and set out to make it right. This Vault dweller, from the time they woke up, had a second shadow.” He paused, gauging her reaction. Still nothing, but he continued. 

“This shadow had noticed a lot of activity by the Bad guys around this Vault dweller, lots of coming and going. So when she finally came out, the shadow had to watch them. He wasn't sure if she was going to be good or bad, so he kept his distance. But he watched her help innocents, and rebuild lives. He watched her desperate and helpless, looking for her only child.” 

He took another breath, steading his voice. He had to finish the damn story. He owed her that and so much more. “One day, he started the Vault dweller on a path to find him. A clue here, a hint there… And she did. He stuck to her after that. And he got to see up close all the good she did. But there was more than that. He watched the way she collected keepsakes from their adventures, and always read through the terminals and notes left behind by the old world she’d come from, even though she knew they didn't have a happy ending. The shadow asked her about that, she said they deserved their last thoughts to be heard. Ain't that something?” He coughed, trying to keep his voice from breaking. It might have been the light, but he could have sworn her head was tilted towards him now… He couldn’t believe the last thing she wanted to hear was his voice...

“And the shadow ended up opening up to her. Ended up spilling all his big secrets. Or at least, some of them. He kept the most important ones for himself. And that was where he went wrong.” He leaned back against a jutting piece of rebar. “He kept the most important secret to himself… The Shadow helped her kill a killer, and then she kissed me…-The Shadow, I mean… and he… He pushed her away. Then he wonders why the Vault dweller doesn't want to see him anymore. But he couldn't help seeing her.” 

He closed his eyes, reaching for his silenced pistol. She deserved better. “And even after all that. All the lies, and the rejection, and the heartbreak… She still risked her life for his. Even though the first thing he tried to tell her was ‘don't be a hero’. But then, when did she ever listen to him…” He clicked off the safety. He watched her chest rise and fall unevenly, pain in every breath. He was drawing out her suffering for his cowardice. He took a breath. “Good talk, Charms…” He lifted the barrel to her skull.

Then he heard a voice, raspy and desperate.

“Sole! Where the **fuck** are you?” Hancock hissed, walking slowly outside the building, only a few feet away from them. “Sole, c’mon, I don’t even like Mirelurk!” Deacon couldn't believe his luck. He stashed away the pistol hurriedly. Hancock was already moving further down the street, still calling out quietly for her. Deacon knelt down beside Sole so she could hear him.

“Stay with me Charmer, if you see a bright light and hear your grandmother’s voice calling you, tell her to fuck off. You still have business here.” He whispered quickly, before taking off after Hancock. 

\-------------------------------

It was a close call, but being so near Diamond city had been what saved her in the end. Teamwork was also vital. Between them, Hancock and Deacon managed to bring Sole back to Diamond city, with the aid of some quick and simple disguises. Hancock wasn't a fan of the gas mask, but it got him through the gate. It didn’t hurt that he was escorted by one of Diamond city's own guards, but why the guard needed sunglasses this late at night was anyone's guess. 

\-------------------------------

Sole woke up on a bed, the sharp pain in her chest rousing her from her sleep. It felt as though someone had shoved razorblades between her ribs, and slit her all the way down to her thighs. Shifting her body was like raking herself over broken glass. Sole choked out a gasp of pain. She swallowed, trying to clear her throat.

“H-Hey…” She croaked. She needed to know where she was, who was around. Even if she was still too weak to open her eyes. 

There was movement nearby, just below her bed. There was the scraping of boots on wooden floor, a tired but soft yawn, and someone sitting up slowly beside her. 

“So, you’re still alive,” He rasped, he sounded exhausted, and a little annoyed. “Good to know. I can't yell at a corpse.”

“Yeah…” She whispered, trying to swallow again. Her throat was so dry, only adding to the list of things wrong with her body.

“First things first. Nod if you want a quick dose of med-x.” Hancock said, a faint growl to his voice. She was about to catch hell for what she put him through. She nodded. There was a sharp stab right on her bruised thigh, she sat bolt upright, crying out in pain. Then flopped back down on the bed, catching her breath. 

She could feel the med-x start to work, numbing her nerves and ebbing the pain to a faint ache. She took a moment before shakily sitting up, opening her eyes. There was a faint light filtering in from somewhere, but she couldn’t tell where. 

“Water… Please…”She begged. He dug out a can from his coat pocket, just as before, and handed it to her. She took it, but struggled to open it. Her fingers were too sore to open the top. Hancock moved to take it back and open it himself, but she pushed through and managed to pry it open, wincing in pain. She drank it down, feeling the refreshment of the lukewarm water. 

Finally she looked up at Hancock, ready to accept whatever lecture he had.

“You. You could’ve been killed.” Hancock growled. “And I wouldn't have even known if that asshole hadn't brought it to my attention.” She nodded, she’d been completely stupid. “That loner shit ends now.” 

“It's done.” She replied firmly, voice a little stronger from the water. “I was stupid… Careless… I’m sorry… Won't happen again.” He was still frowning at her, arms crossed. “If… You’ll still have me…” He thought, closing his eyes and mulling it over. Then his eyes opened.

“You know the real bitch of the problem?” He asked in annoyance. “You would have died over Mirelurk meat. And I fucking hate shellfish.” She gave a weak smile. He was rambling now. He shook his head and gave her a faint grin. “So long story short, work on your communication skills and we’ll be just fine, you feel me?”

“I feel ya…” She muttered, eyes growing heavy again. She rest back down into her pillow, yawning quietly. “Goodnight… Hancock…” She closed her eyes again, drifting back off to dreamless sleep. The ghoul didn't have the heart to tell her it was afternoon.

\-------------------------------

The second time she awoke, she could feel a few things. Her left side was aching and burning, her head was pounding, and she needed to pee. Very badly.

She sat up slowly, the med-x having worn off some time ago. She rubbed her eyes, wiping the grit away and blinking to adjust to the dim light. 

She slid one leg carefully out of bed, and then the other, resting her feet on the wooden floor. She needed to figure out where she was in relation to a toilet. Her head was spinning, but after a moment her surroundings came into focus.

She looked to her left and saw the familiar desk of Nick Valentine, illuminated by the soft glow of an overhead bulb. It was unmistakable, only a pre-war relic like him would keep so many folders scattered around. 

She stood up weakly, if she was right that meant, if it was dark enough, she could slip out the front door and relieve herself in the little alley outside his office. The nauseating pressure left her very little room for an alternative.

She returned successful. It had been well after sundown, and Nicks neon sign had been turned off. All to her benefit, considering that she realised too late the only thing she was wearing was the ratty tshirt she'd exchanged for her Vault suit and the filthy bandages that were wrapped all up her body. 

She closed the door behind her quietly, turning towards it to make sure the lock didn't make a sound as it shut.

“Well, I go up for a smoke and when I turn around, you’re gone.” A voice behind made her jump out of her skin. She whipped around to see Hancock, sitting on the desk. She had to wonder where Nick and Ellie were. “Still pulling the same loner crap.” 

She rubbed her head, that's right. There was a door up there to the balcony. She considered briefly using that next time nature called, but there was something unsettling about pissing on a balcony.

“I was gone a second.” She replied tiredly. His eyes dipped over her, a smirk on his face. She flushed, pulling the shirt down. “And where are my clothes?” 

‘Sorry, Sunny’s orders. Gotta let that wound breathe for awhile. Got no complaints from me.” 

“Where's Nick and Ellie? You scare them off?” She asked, moving to the chair in front of the desk, the same one she’d sat in when she first spoke to Nick about Kellogg… 

“Down at Power Noodles, I think I was making the girl nervous. Not many in Diamond city are used to seeing ghouls. Especially not one as handsome as yours truly.” Hancock explained, his grin falling a little. “And I can't exactly take a stroll around the market. Guards get funny around masked figures.” 

“Gotcha…” Sole muttered, leaning back against the chair. “So the sooner we leave the better.” 

“Hold up, Sister. We ain't moving until your legs better.” Hancock cautioned. “We’re dead if I have to rely on you to run the bases.” She chuckled, smiling over at him. 

“Well, damn. You saying I'm going to have to miss the big race? But what about little Timmy! He needs a role model!” Hancock gave a little shake of his head. She sighed, Deacon would have loved that. 

“It was med-x I gave you right?” He asked. “I want to know for future reference, because I want what you’re on.” 

“Speaking of which…” She said slowly, gesturing to her leg. “Could use a pick me up.” He nodded, pulling out a syringe he’d kept handy for this. She flinched as he moved toward the afflicted area. He looked up. 

“Really? Flinching from this? I saw Sun pull out a splinter twice this big from you.” He said in surprise. “This is nothing.” 

“Just… OK get it over with.” She started, looking away and focusing on a poster on the opposite wall. 

“So when you gonna tell me how this all happened?” Hancock asked. “All egghead would tell me was you fought off fifty Mirelurks and a deathclaw.” He chuckled to himself. “Not saying you couldn't, but you learn to take what he says with a grain of salt. ”

“You’re right not to trust him.” Sole smirked. “It was a hundred Mirelurks, and two deathclaws.” 

“So how come he was shirtless?” He asked, teasing, but maybe with a hint of jealousy. No, it was her imagination. He was just teasing her…

“He had to scare the Deathclaw off somehow.” Sole replied, crossing her arms in impatience. She turned back to him. “You done there yet?” He grinned back at her.

“Been done for awhile, I was just admiring the view.” 

“Not much of one at the minute,” She said with a raised eyebrow, “Can't imagine ‘festering wounds’ are a turn on. And if it is, consider me concerned.” 

“Fishing for compliments are we?” He asked sitting back on the desk, arms crossed. Sole sighed, as the pain faded once more. She stood up, stretching out the stiffness in her limbs. 

“Well I haven't caught anything yet.” She replied. Hancock coughed, watching her saunter back towards the stairs, the shirt just covering her ass…

“Just let them happen, sunshine… No use trying to dig em out of me.” He said, trailing after her. “But keep it up and compliments will be the last of your problems.” She turned back on the stairs, smiling.

“Bit far from town for a tour.” She joked. 

“Hey, didn't I tell you my touring days were over?” He asked, fuzzy memories resurfacing. Maybe there was something to this sobriety shit.

“Vaguely, but I don't remember a reason…” She replied, continuing up the stairs. 

Then, her foot slipped. She lost her balance, hitting the stairs and freezing to the spot.

“Hey, you ok there?” Hancock asked, smirk replaced with concern. “Gotta be careful.”

“Yeah…” She replied, still glued to the spot. Her heart started to pound. “I’m ok…” She swallowed, trying to move, but she was paralysed, adrenaline starting to coarse through her veins. Her chest tightened. Hancock said something behind her, but she couldn’t hear him. There was a ringing in her head, buzzing static that drowned out everything… Things were going fuzzy, darkening around the edges of her vision. There were panicked voices above her, she felt as though she was falling beneath waves, drowning... Then a hand grabbed her, yanking her off the stairs. She couldn't even scream, her nails raking over the wood leaving bloody trails. 

She started to come to on the bed below the stairs. She was sat up, barely aware of how she got there. She blinked, trying to focus, and saw the amber glow of Nick's eyes as he spoke to her. His voice broke through the water she was drowning beneath.

“Kid, come back to us. You’re safe, start breathing like it.” He urged, keeping his voice even, maintaining eye contact. She took a shuddering breath, the vignette around her vision fading. Her chest started to relax it's tight grasp on her diaphragm. She took a deep breath, the static buzz quietening. Heartbeat slowing...

“Yeah, safe…” She murmured. Nick smiled in relief, resting an arm on the bed. He was kneeling beside the bed so they were eye level.

“Still in one piece?” He asked, checking that all the bandages had stayed in place, examining her wounds with a professional discipline.

“Physically? For the most part.” She joked, still feeling a weak tremble throughout her body. “Emotionally? Anyone's guess.” Nick nodded knowingly. She looked around.

“Where’s Ellie?” She inquired, trying to change the subject. Nick stood up, brushing off his coat.

“Staying with Piper until this place is a little less cramped…” He said carefully, an amber eye glancing towards the ghoul in the detective’s chair, keeping himself amused by playing with his knife. Hancock glanced back, the blade pinned between his fingers. 

“Should my ears be burning, Nicky?” He asked. 

“They would if you still had ears.” Nick countered.

“What's that? Couldn't hear you over the pot calling the kettle black.” Hancock shot back casually. He turned back to the knife at hand, turning it in his fingers. 

“And here I thought some of this atmosphere would rub off on you, but looks like you aren't going to make detective anytime soon.” Nick noted. “Otherwise you’d noticed I still got both shell-likes.”

“Come over here, I’ll fix that for you.” Hancock warned, pointing the blade at him. 

There was moment of tense silence, before both broke out laughing. Sole smiled, it was nice to see. Hancock sheathed the knife, Atom only knew where, and stood up, stretching.

“Thanks for putting us up, Nick.” Sole said gratefully. 

“Yeah, we’ll be out of your lack of hair soon enough.” Hancock said, sidling up to the pair. 

“Look who’s talking.” Nick rebuked. Sole smiled. Hancock and Nick both glanced at each other. It looked like the double act was cheering her up. 

\-------------------------------

Diamond city felt wrong to Sole. She had spent so much time in small settlements, that this many people made her anxious after a while. It didn't help that Nick insisted she take walks around it to keep the blood flowing. 

She compromised by doing it at night, when the city slept and she could pretend that she was the only one there. Save for the sleeping bodies and roaming guards.

On the first night, she tried to avoid the places she and Mac had roamed together, but that only left the Stands, and she wasn't really welcome there. Plus, it involved _alot_ of stairs.

The next night, she went by the water. It smelled almost as terrible as last time she was near it. The kid running the water purifier needed to step up. She didn't stay too long, she was paranoid about mosquitos coming off the fetid pond. It’d be just her luck that Blood-bugs would come in small, medium, _and_ large.

The third night, she sat at Power Noodles. They weren't bad, but it could use some chicken stock and a few veggies. Maybe she could convince Tinker Tom into making her a chip to override the Protectrons system, or at least modify it to improve its cooking. 

_"Nan-ni shimasko-ka?"_

_“Oh I bet you say that to all the girls.”_

On the fourth night, her leg was nearly healed. Sun insisted on examining it early in the day, to make sure there were no more splinters in the wound. There were, but a quick dose of med-x and some minor surgery took care of them. A stimpak on top of that healed the rest. Subtracting a solid 800 caps from her inventory. 

That night she stopped by Diamond City Surplus to pick up supplies. She’d heard that robot shout enough during her night travels, it was time he put his caps where his speaker was. She was going to need to get everything to leave by next morning, Hancock was well beyond stir-crazy hanging out in Nick's office. If he had wanted to sit in a musty room high on day tripper, he’d have stayed in Goodneighbor.

Things were going well. She was finally stocked up on supplies, cleaned out of caps, and still on a friendly first name basis with most of the guards. Her leg was still a little sore, but otherwise fine. She’d even started getting over her unease around stairs. Things were going well. Too well. 

She couldn’t help feeling as though the other shoe was about to drop. 

\-------------------------------

She took the path around the water to get back to Nicks for a change of pace. It was a nice night for it, but overcast. It had been like that for awhile.

Sole stopped by the waters edge, the bright lights of Diamond City reflecting off it. It looked a little shallower than when she’d seen it with Macready, she guessed it was due for rain. She sat by the water, feeling the cool fog resting above it. Her hand went to her rucksack, casually pulling out a bottle of wine. One of the necessities she had gotten in the market. She unscrewed the top and took a swig. Wine glasses were for cowards.

The air was stiflingly still, accentuating the quiet of the night. There was a faint hum from the lights, and the occasional creak from the metal work, but otherwise quiet.

So when the soft humming of a guard drifted on the air, it was impossible to ignore. One of the many drawbacks to a new song being added to the music que was that everyone and their uncle had it stuck in their head.

The humming grew louder as the guard made his round by her. He started to sing the words under his breath, the way you do when you think you’re alone and can’t hold it in any longer.

“... 'Cause it's witchcraft, Wicked witchcraft. And although, I know, it's strictly taboo…” A gruff voice sang softly to the tune. They wouldn’t win any awards, but A+ for effort. “When you arouse the need in me, my heart says yes indeed in me. Proceed with what you're leading me to… God I love that song.” 

“Same, buddy.” She said softly, leaning back against the dry earth. She heard the guard stop mid-step. 

“Hey, you look like that Vault-dweller, the one hangin’ with Nicky.” The gruff voice called out. 

“Clearly Diamond City securities best and brightest.” Sole replied, looking back at them. The guard haloed by the blinding lights. How could anyone stand those lights?

“Hey hey, no meanin’ offense, but there ain’t no loitering here.” The guard cautioned. She squinted, trying to get a better look at them. 

“How about instead, you sit over here and give an encore performance. Singings a little rough, but I don’t mind.” She offered, patting the ground beside her. 

“How’s about I take you to lock up?” The guard threatened, the gruff edge to their voice thickening. Sole chuckled.

“Oh I hope you do, it’s been awhile since a guy had me in handcuffs.” She replied with a smile, taking another swig of wine. The guard glared at her. Or at least he would have, if not for the standard issue Diamond city security goggles. Or at least they would have been, if they weren’t sunglasses. 

“You going to do this the easy way, or the hard way.” The guard growled. She looked back at him, illuminated by the lights and the soft neon glow, and chose her next words carefully.

“Oh, _the hard way. **Please**_.” She purred, giving her best sultry look. There was a moment of silence, before the guard burst out into laughter. He walked towards her, discarding the bulky armor as he did and carrying it under his arm. The laughter had just subsided to a chuckle as he sat beside her. 

“I thought that performance was award-worthy.” Deacon grumbled, but smiled all the same. 

“You may have had me going, except I know all the late night guards.” Sole said softly. “And not only that, but Vault dweller? I haven't worn a Vault suit for awhile now.” 

“You can take the Vault suit from the Vault dweller, but… Well, you get the idea.” Deacon mused. Sole chuckled, holding up the bottle to take a sip, but instead offering it to Deacon. “Oh joy, just the way I like my drink, with plenty of backwash.” He took the bottle all the same. He took a swig. They sat for a moment in the quiet. Finally Sole sighed.

“I noticed my gear was a little light on hot plates…” She started hesitantly.

“Well, we’re having a cookout in a couple days.” Deacon replied, using the same conspiratorial tone he used to talk to tourists. “Hope you don't mind, I liberated some other things as well. Got a nice spot picked out for it too.”

“That's a relief.” Sole said quietly. “Am I still invited?” 

“Of course, can't have a cookout without the cook.” Deacon confirmed. “No one else wants to do it, too scared they’ll get burned.” 

“Well, we're pretty low on friends, so if anyone was going to get burned, it might as well be me.” She murmured, taking another swig. 

“Hey now, nobody meant it like that.” He protested gently. “It's just you have lucky streak keeping you alive. If anyone can stand the fire, it's you.” Sole nodded, he had a point. She put the bottle down, it was starting to make her melancholy. 

“We’ll be there then. Where are we cooking?” She asked.

“Remember that time you used a grenade to kill a rad roach?” He asked, a faint smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, I think. With the dead guy in the outhouse?” Sole asked, groaning at the memory. Deacon nodded. “Sounds like an ideal place for a cookout.” It was a lot of effort to say ‘Sunshine tidings co-op’ but in enemy territory you could never be too careful. She screwed the top back on the bottle, slipping it back into her bag. There wasn't much left to say. She started to pull herself up. 

“I gotta make a stop at home first, then we’ll meet you there.” She said, dusting herself off. 

“Sure, of course.” Deacon replied, still sitting by the water. He looked away for a moment. “Hey, Charms, about that last story I told…” He began, a anxious tone to his voice. Sole cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh that? Yeah was probably your worst one yet.” She teased. He grinned back, but it was forced, his heart thudding against his chest. 

“Really?” He asked, almost choking out the question. 

“Yes, I mean sailing to Greenland? Not really believable.” She continued. “The polar bear thing was a nice touch though- Why are you laughing?” Deacon was holding his sides, shaking with laughter. Finally he caught his breath again, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Suppose not my best work.” He admitted. “Couldn't really give the story my full attention.” She smiled at that. She stretched a bit and started to move back towards town.

“Good talk Deeks, we’ll do it again soon.” She said with a wave, heading to Nicks. He nodded, standing up himself. 

“And you stay outta trouble, or else!” He called back in his best Boston accent. He heard faint laughter from her as she disappeared down the alley to the detective's office. He put his guard uniform back on, sighing in relief. She must have been out cold when he spilled his guts in that stupid ‘shadow’ story. That, or she was a better liar than he had given her credit for.

\-------------------------------

She opened the door to Nick’s, humming softly to herself. The lights were off, Nick must have been out following up on a case. Probably something dull, cheating spouse or stolen caps. She flipped on the light and tossed her rucksack to the floor by the downstairs bed.

“Hey Hancock, you awake?” Sole called, a bit louder than she meant to. There was a sluggish shuffle from the second floor. Best case, she’d stirred him from a nap. Worst case, he was high as a kite. “You alright to make it down those stairs?”

“Don’t worry about me, sister.” Hancock called back, wavering as he appeared at the top of the staircase. “I can still hold my Daytripper with the best of ‘em.” He took the stairs two at a time, until he stood before her, biggest dreamy-eyed grin on his face. She couldn’t help but grin back. “Was startin’ to get worried. Guards didn’t give you a hard time, did they?” Her smile faltered. He raised an imaginary eyebrow. “Oh, you get some admirers? They got good taste.” He went to Nick’s chair, leaning back and stretching out his limbs. “Speaking of which, you bring back dinner? Gettin’ to that point where yumyum deviled eggs are sounding appetizing…”

“I got wine and some Dandy Boy apples.” She replied, going to her rucksack on the floor to retrieve them. “Figured we could celebrate our last night in Diamond City, before we give Nick his office back.” Hancock leaned forward and rested his arm on the desk.

“You got anything from good old Solomon? Dude’s been cooking for as long as I can remember…” Hancock ventured, eyeing the rucksack.

“As long as you can remember could be anywhere from 10 years, to 10 minutes.” Sole smirked, grabbing the wine and the apples. “Besides, weren't you meant to lay off them?” 

“What are you? My mother?” Hancock joked as Sole started pouring the wine into a plastic cup she’d dug out of Nick's desk. 

“I'm too old to be your mother.” Sole shot back with a smile. She handed him the bottle and opened the Dandy Boy apples. The sugary sweet smell drifted from the package. Hancock took a deep hit of the smell. 

“Oh man that takes me back.” He said with a misty - eyed smile. “Last time I had these was when I was twelve. Nearly lost a tooth biting into it.” He chuckled, taking one of them out. “I don't like my chances now that I'm losing toes.” She smiled, taking a sip from her cup. The wine was bitter, the taste needed cutting with the sweetness of the apples.

“Sounds like it was a helluva party. Can't really picture you as twelve though. Trading lollipops for jet canisters.” Sole mused, taking a bite out of an apple, the sugar making her teeth hurt. She washed it down with wine. “So was your birthday actually any good?”

“It was pretty good. My old man took me fishing. Killed a couple Mirelurks. Gave me his hunting knife, and sparked a lifelong love affair with the things.” Hancock said, flipping out his own blade from out of nowhere, admiring how it glinted in the lamplight. 

“What? Mirelurks?” Sole teased. Hancock gagged.

“No, _knives_ ya smartass.” Hancock huffed. She cackled at his disgust. “Probably the only thing that kept me alive long enough to-” _‘meet you’._ “-To become Mayor, shape up Goodneighbor.” She smiled, finishing up her wine, glancing at the bottle. She could feel the flush of red warming through her face. It was pleasant, a bit liberating in fact. Nothing like when she was drowning herself with Rot-gut. 

Hancock smiled at her, illuminated in the soft glow of the overhead lamp. It reminded him of when they first met. Typical story, boy meets girl, boy tries to extort money from girl, ghoul stabs boy… And all the while she was just standing there, like an angel in the lamp light. 

“Hey why don’t we put on some music, it’s getting too quiet.” She said, leaning over to the radio. Hancock raised what would have been an eyebrow. 

“You sure, sister?” He asked hesitantly. It had been a sore subject with her since Mac left. Went through a lot of radio’s in Goodneighbor everytime it was switched to Diamond City. She smiled at him, shrugging, and switched it on. It crackled to life, and Travis’s voice came on through the static.

“Feels like anything's possible when you're in love, according to Billie Holiday. Here's "Crazy He Calls Me." Travis said, his tone completely shifted from last time she heard. 

“How strong is this wine?” Sole burst out laughing. “Or has Travis been swapped by the institute? For once it’s an improvement.” 

_I say I’ll move the mountains_  
And I’ll move the mountains  
If he wants them out of the way  
Crazy, he calls me  
Sure I’m crazy  
Crazy in love, I’d say 

“Nah, the guys just gotten real good lately.” Hancock replied, glossing over a few details. She smiled.

“I liked him before. But this is nice…” She sighed.

_I say I’ll go through fire_  
And I’ll go through fire  
As he wants it, so it will be  
Crazy, he calls me  
Sure I’m crazy  
Crazy in love, you see 

“Man, I actually love this song.” She said in excitement, turning it up. “Can you believe I actually never heard this before the war.” She swayed in her chair to the music. 

_Like the wind that shakes the bough_  
He moves me with a smile  
The difficult I’ll do right now  
The impossible will take a little while 

“You know, I never really got this song.” Hancock admitted. 

“What’s to get?” She laughed.

“Well, I’m starting to see it that way…”

_I say I’ll care forever_  
And I mean forever  
If I have to hold up the sky  
Crazy, he calls me  
Sure I’m crazy  
Crazy in love am I 

“You know it’s funny, before all this… I’d never loved anyone but Nate.” She sighed, smiling sadly. “And now… It’s just been one love after another. My heart could be anyone’s.” 

_Like the wind that shakes the bough_  
He moves me with a smile  
The difficult I’ll do right now  
The impossible will take a little while 

“Anyone’s, huh?” Hancock murmured. She smirked, playfully shoving his shoulder. 

“Yeah, my heart is anyone’s. But I’m pickier about who the rest belongs to.” She replied with a wink, but the flirtatious gesture was interrupted with a yawn. 

_I say I'll care forever_  
And I mean forever  
If I have to hold up the sky  
Crazy, he calls me  
Sure I’m crazy  
Crazy in love am I 

The song finished, she turned it down and stood up, rubbing her eyes. It was getting too late. 

“I’m hitting the hay.” She yawned, stretching. “We got a pretty long day tomorrow. Got some instructions from our ‘friends’, and I want to hit Sanctuary before we meet them.” She started towards the bed beneath the stairs. It was originally Ellie’s, but she had it on good authority Ellie wouldn’t mind. 

“Already?” Hancock smiled, stifling a yawn of his own. She sat on the bed, springs whining from use. 

“Good Night, Hancock.” She smiled sleepily. “Don’t forget, Nick has access to a U.V. light and a geiger counter, so no funny business on his bed” He grinned, already sauntering towards the stairs. 

“Never said anything about yours…” He murmured with a wink as he passed. She flushed, but buried her head into her pillow to hide it. He chuckled, taking the steps two at a time towards his bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--------------------------------
> 
> This is actually my favorite part of this whole fic. Seriously, I just love reading it over and over. Sometimes I think editing this thing is just an excuse to read this part again. Also, there actually is one flashback I haven't put in yet, but not sure where to put it (It explains why she hates Diamond City Radio, and the song Deacon was whistling) So I hope you liked this one as much as me, next chapter will be actually all Sole and Hancock. Also some Preston because he's a good friendo.


	10. Trailer Parks and Recreation (Hi Honey!)

\----------------------------------------

“C’mon Sister, you gotta take a load off.” Hancock insisted quietly. They’d just cleared out a trailer park on their way to Sanctuary, and the sun was hanging low on the horizon. “We’ve been walkin’ all day, not gonna be much use if something comes at us in the dark.” Sole frowned, hands held tightly around her pistol. 

“But here? I’d rather take on a Deathclaw, no, ten Deathclaws.” Sole spat quietly, listening out for the laboured shuffling of more ferals roaming around the rotting trailers. 

“Why? It's got beds, campfire, swimming pool, night light…” He joked, thumbing over at the Glowing ghoul corpse in the pool. Sole froze. They’d killed a glowing ghoul, but that had been in a trailer on the other side. This one… Was it dead? She leveled her pistol at it. She was low on ammo, but it was better safe than sorry. 

She took the shot, the bullet ripping into the gooey flesh. There was a sharp exhale of breath, before the ghoul started to pull itself up, groaning as it did. Sole flinched, heart racing. Fuck.

“Hancock, do you still have those grenades?” She asked hurriedly. He nodded, already fishing for them out of his coat pockets. He ripped the pin off three and lobbed them into the pool just as it was getting to its feet. 

They went off with a deafening bang. Sole’s ears were ringing as the pool amplified the sound of the blast. Maybe not their smartest move.

Hancock tapped on her shoulder as the ringing started to fade. She looked behind her to see more feral ghouls starting to pull themselves out from under trailers. 

“Shit shit shit…” She breathed. The closest one saw her, and ran at mach speed in her direction. She emptied a clip into it as it ran, until it collapsed at her feet, the momentum carrying it off into the pool. Hancock was already stabbing another, his blade lodged firmly into its skull. He kicked his boot into their chest and pulled it out, trails of viscous blood following. 

Two down, two more to go. Sole looked around, there was a pile of crates near one of the trailers. Without a second thought she scrambled up on to them, leaping onto the top of the trailer and knocking over the crates in the process. She located the ghouls, one was a bit further away, lumbering towards them, the other was already going for Hancock, who was fending it off with well placed kicks and stabs. She aimed carefully, and shot it in the legs, blowing one clean off. This made it a much easier target. 

She turned to the other one, but it was gone. Her stomach dropped. Where. Where was the fucking-

“Grahggh!!!!” There was a shriek from behind her before she was launched off the trailer and onto the ground. She gasped as the air was knocked out of her, the feral tumbling off her with the momentum. Her pistol had flown out of her hands, well beyond reach, so she scrambled for her combat knife. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt as the ghoul let out another shriek, dashing back towards her. She held up the knife, shutting her eyes, and the ghoul plunged itself upon the blade, but scratching at her with talons. She kicked it off, rolling to her feet, before a shot rang out. The ghoul gave a final death rattle before collapsing.

Hancock blew imaginary smoke from the pistol, grinning. Sole fell to the ground, gasping for air, side bleeding from the gashes left by the ghoul. Hancock started over to help her, but she put out a hand to stop him, unable to speak. 

“Hey, Sunshine, you ok?” He asked in concern. She waved him away, trying to get her breath back. She needed some space, and she was finding it hard to look at him… 

“I just… Could you grab me some bandages?” She asked, looking down at the bloody gashes. “...And some vodka.” He wasn’t gone for long, they’d set their stuff down by a trailer when they started clearing it. Hancock tossed her the roll of gauze, and handed her the bottle of vodka. She tried not to look up as she took the bottle. 

“You going to be alright there?” He asked seriously, now keenly aware she wasn’t looking at him. She lifted her shirt up just above the bleeding gash, and splashed the vodka on the wound, disinfecting it as best she could. It stung, but she could stand it. At least it wasn’t the side she’d just had stitched up.

“Yup, of course.” She lied, wrapping the gauze around her until the wound was no longer bleeding through. 

“It’s just, you seem rattled.” He observed. “Something I said?” She’d never had a problem with ghouls. Most all of them were pretty friendly, and she usually had a lot in common with them. But Ferals were another story. They were a terrifying, disturbing remnants of the old world. It was worse when they lay dormant and snuck up on you... 

But this was Hancock, not a monster. She was safe. Sole took a deep breath. She was safe. She looked up at him and smiled.

“I’m alright, just needed a breather-” She started but was interrupted by a low growl from a ways off, echoing from the pool.

“You are fucking kidding me…” Hancock muttered. Sole stood up slowly, and the two went to the pools edge. There was a pause as they took in the sight. 

There, lying in the fetid pool water, was the growling torso of a glowing ghoul, flopping uselessly against the mosaic tiles. A tired grin broke out on Sole’s face, then a soft laugh, and another until she was crumpled to the ground laughing despite the pain. Hancock smiled, sitting beside her. Finally she settled down, leaning against Hancock, closing her eyes with an exhausted grin on her face. The echoing growls making for a macabre soundtrack to the tender moment.

“Can you do the honours?” She asked sleepily. “I’ve had too much excitement for one day.” 

\----------------------------------------

“....And after all that, the safe was still in one piece.” Hancock said incredulously, referring to the steadfast safe that lay beneath the dead glowing ghoul. The two sat at the campfire by the pool, radstag grilling over the fire. The smoke drifting up into the starless night sky. Sole looked up, somber. “Hey, you check out on me?” She gave a small smile, looking back to the fire.

“One of my favorite things about the Commonwealth was always the stars…” She replied with a murmur. “I looked up at that sky and I felt as though I could fall into it.” She turned the radstag, letting it cook on its other side. “It was like seeing the sky for the first time, you know? Anyway, I was just thinking about how long this cloud covers been hanging over us.”

“Yeah, not used to this kinda stillness.” Hancock mused in agreement. “Clouds shoulda broke by now.” He crossed his arms. “Gonna be a hell of a storm.” She nodded, checking the grilled meat. It looked cooked enough. 

“Well, dinners up.” She sighed, “Gotta clean knife?” 

\----------------------------------------

The night drew on. Sole was tired, her eyelids were anchored down. But her head was buzzing, unable to quieten. She and Hancock were hunkered down into a trailer, the door barred against any outside threat. She lay on a dirty mattress, Hancock sat against the aluminum wall. 

“Hey… Hancock...You up?” Sole asked into the dark. 

“Yeah, just rubbing one out before I turn in.” He replied, hopefully joking. Still, there was something anxious in his voice. 

“What are your thoughts…?” She asked sleepily. 

“Huh? My what now?”

“What's on your mind…?”

“It's nothing important…”

“Hancock…”

“Fine, I was just… Just thinking about those ferals…”

“Ah…”

“Yeah see? It's stupid.”

“No… Tell me..”

“Just… What makes ‘em like that? Back in Diamond City, back when ghouls were still tolerated, there was this family. One day they were good wall-fearing folk, then the next morning security is finding them ripping apart some poor fuck…. It's why folks were so eager to throw them all out. Called them ticking time bombs…” 

“Hancock…” She sat up, rubbing her eyes and moving towards him. He continued, barely noticing.

“It sounded like bullshit then, but when it's you… When you could go like that without warning-” He was cut off by a kiss. Short and sudden on leathery lips. And before he knew it it was gone. Sole leaned against him.

“Actually, I’ve brushed up on that subject…” She replied as he sat stunned, more by the kiss than her words. “Preston was with me when I saw ferals for the first time. The Gorski family. I knew them, the Dad was crazy, but his wife baby sat Shaun once… I had to blow her head off.” She gave a shuddering breath. “Preston explained that not every ghoul was like that, but didn't know much else about it. I had to have answers. Sun had some, Nick had theories….” She shrugged. “As far as I can tell, becoming a ghoul rather than dying of radiation is a genetic potluck. Becoming feral, might have to do with state of mind… And if that’s the case, you’re safe.” She nestled against Hancock.

“Not sure about that…” Hancock replied hesitantly, putting a tired arm around Sole. “After all, this is one hell of a hallucination.” She smiled into the darkness, closing her eyes again. 

“Nice try, but hallucinations don’t have morning breath…” 

\----------------------------------------

Hancock awoke groggily to streaming sunlight from the broken blinds. He took a deep yawning breath and stretched out sore limbs. Sleeping up right was not a habit he should get into. He looked around, there should have been another body in this tin can. Sole was missing. Maybe she hadn’t been there at all. He thought suddenly. Maybe it really was one big hallucination? It made sense, he did have some pretty vivid dreams. And it wasn’t like she would have just kissed him… She probably camped out in another trailer.. Or maybe she left him...

He emerged from the trailer to the smokey sweet scent of something cooking. Sole was frying off something in a pan that she’d salvaged from one of the trailers. _Thank God, she’s still here._ He peered into the pan, it was leftover radstag meat mixed with pork n’ beans. He grimaced, but he couldn't deny it smelled great. She looked up and beamed at him. His breath caught in his throat. _Oh man, I am tripping hard on **something**_. 

“Tastes alot better than it looks, I promise.” She assured him. He sat next to the fire, the heat helped him focus and regain a little composure.

“Don't suppose you’re hiding coffee somewhere…” He ventured, rubbing some sleep from his eyes. She held up a bottle of Nukacola apologetically. He shrugged and accepted it. “Guess it’ll do.” He took out a dull knife, and used it's edge with a bit of leverage to crack the top off, Sole catching the cap mid-air. She was well practiced by now.

“Sleep well?” She asked, taking the pan off the fire and getting out two metal bowls to dish it up. “I tried to wake you up, but you were out cold.” 

“Bit worse for wear, but the dreams made up for it.” Hancock replied, smiling as he recalled. She gave a sly smile. “Probably why I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Do tell.” She pressed, handing him a bowl and a spoon. He looked down at it, his stomach growled. 

“A gentleman never tells..” He answered between mouthfuls. She smiled into her own bowl. 

“If you say so…” 

\----------------------------------------

“Any reason we’re heading up to Sanctuary?” Hancock asked, as they worked their way North through the Wastes. They were off the roads now, trying to avoid running into any trouble. They had passed Walden Pond and were trying to make it past Concorde without Incident. 

“I haven’t been back since I took the Castle for the Minutemen.” She started slowly, keeping her eye out for hostiles. “That was a month and a half ago. As the General, I should probably make sure they’re doing ok.” That was a pretty lame excuse to go back there. They’d been helping settlements since they left Good Neighbor. Sometimes clearing out hostiles, other times it’s just a bit of construction work. Barely worth mentioning, but it did feel good to help folks like that. 

“You got a boyfriend up there I don’t know about?” He joked. 

“Of course I do.” She answered, he nearly choked in surprise, but then he saw her mischievous smile. “Anyway, doesn’t matter why I need to get there. It’s where _I’m_ going.” He shrugged, couldn’t argue with that, it’s not like he had much of an agenda. 

The buildings of Concord sat to their right as they sidled the perimeter of the town. Pretty soon they would be at Abernathy Farm, then Sanctuary. 

“I’m going to be a little busy doing General stuff, so you’ll have to amuse yourself for a bit.” She said carefully. He would have killed for a ment-tat just then. He wanted to know what she was being so cagey about. 

“Sure, what’s the closest thing to a den of debauchery in Sanctuary.” Hancock asked.

“Well, Preston and I we’re thinking of putting in a bowling alley.” She answered thoughtfully. “Not sure if he ever got around to it.” He raised a non-existent eyebrow.

“That the boyfriend?” He asked, teasing. 

“One of them.” She said with a shrug.

They were passing through Abernathy farm. The place had grown quite a bit. Before there was about ten people staying here and tending to the fields. Now there were nearly 30! Some of the older ones waved to her, recognising their General straight away. She waved back, but kept on. 

They had to reach Sanctuary before it started to get dark.

“Quite the celebrity.” Hancock mused. “Can I have your autograph Missus General? Pretty please?” Sole shoved him playfully. 

“Says the Mayor of Goodneigbor,” Sole laughed. “The guy literally mobbed by fans every time you step foot outside the StateHouse.”

“Oh it’s a mob alright. Not always fans, though.” Hancock grinned. “Besides, I just think it’s good folks show a bit of love for their General.”

“I didn’t really get into this for the recognition.” She muttered. “I just…. wanted to make a difference.” She sighed. “And I was hoping it would help me find my baby…” 

“Well it’s done a lot of good.” He said, trying to cheer her up. “Besides, you’re a step closer to him after that shopping trip.” She smiles and nodded. The Railroad had everything they needed to make a teleport. It would just be a matter of time before she came face to face with the Institute. 

\----------------------------------------

Sanctuary was a lot different than when she had left. It had been lively enough when she had left, but now it was a bustling settlement. Caravans passed through in a conga line just to get in and out.

As they approached, two scouts on watch towers announced their presence. The air was filled with the soft clickclickclicks of the turrets rotating, some of them she’d set up a over a month ago. Admittedly, she had gone overboard with defenses. Between her and Sturges, they had made Sanctuary the most fortified settlement anywhere in the Commonwealth. 

“Some digs you got here.” Hancock observed, not sure if he was impressed or not. 

“It’s nicer inside.” She said, though unsure. She remembered it being more welcoming, less militarised. “There’s a decent bar there. I hope.” 

They walked over the bridge, which had been repaired and fortified to support the many caravans. There was a wooden battlement over the entrance, it cast a long shadow as they passed under it. 

“General, long time no see.” A familiar voice called out to them.

“Things are looking… uh, different.” Sole called back, gesturing to the battlements. Not to mention all the extra Minutemen. Preston’s friendly smile fell.

“We had another Institute raid.” Preston replied grimly. “Lost a few folk, not including the Institute spy.” Her heart fell. She could understand the extra security now. 

“What can I do?” She asked earnestly. “I can man a few watches, build another turret, anything.” He smiled in relief, it wasn’t often he got enthusiastic volunteers, especially ones as capable as the General.

“The best thing you could do for us is lift morale a little.” Preston admitted, putting a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. “We’re getting by, but a visit from the General would really get people’s spirits up.” She went red. She’d rather shoot bloatflies or set up some water purifiers. Talking to the troops was more Preston’s thing than her’s. 

“Sure thing,” She agreed nervously. “Just let me put my stuff away, get changed, and I’ll rally the Minutemen.” He nodded and grinned with appreciation. 

“Thanks General,” He said gratefully. “See you later.” He waved goodbye and she waved back, a bit overwhelmed. 

“Oh, he’s a keeper.” Hancock whispered in her ear as they walked towards her place. She shook her head and chuckled.

“Jealousy Isn't a good look on you, John.” She teased. He grinned back, trying to play it off. So maybe there was a bit of jealousy. Preston looked like the kinda guy you could bring home to your mother, something he’d never been. Not many moms want their daughter dating a ghoul, especially not one that was a junkie (recovering or otherwise). 

They headed into a dilapidated house, heavily repaired with a new roof and supports to keep the aluminium frame up. They turned into a small room, complete with a dresser and bed, but not much else.

“Well, this is my room, we’ll have to see if Preston has a spare bed for you.” Sole said, already setting down her shoulder bag and backpack, relieved to have the weight off. 

“I can’t bunk with you?” He asked, mock disappointment in his voice. 

“You wouldn’t want to, I snore.” She chuckled, kicking her bags under her bed. 

“Sister, I slept four whole nights over you back in Dickhead City.” Hancock pointed out. “I _know_ you snore.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Come on, let’s get you to a den of debauchery.” 

\----------------------------------------

Hancock was safely stashed away at the only bar in Sanctuary, a little establishment she and Sturges had built to help everyone unwind. It’d had quite a few additions since then, all the better to distract the Mayor. 

Another place she’d helped build was a small post office. Nothing big, just a collection of mailboxes and boxes. She’d had the idea for a postal service after finding an old postman outfit stashed in one of her neighbors houses (She suggested it would be a better fit for Preston, but he vetoed the idea). Now the post office was quite lively, caravans going past to drop off and pick up packages and mail. It was a great way to distribute resources between settlements, but even better for keeping in touch with everyone. 

It was a larger shack now, decorated with the Minutemen's flag. She stepped inside, the cool of the shade washing over her. Inside, was a familiar looking settler, but they’d never actually exchanged names. The settler was sorting through some scraps of paper, squinting at the illegible writing. Sole quietly approached the counter the settler stood behind.

It took a moment before she realized that someone was standing before her. She looked up from the papers, at first annoyed and tired, but then it clocked who was standing across the counter. The look of shock on her face was tangible. 

“G-General I-” She spluttered, but Sole cut her off.

“Hey yeah, did you get anything from Good Neighbor?” Sole asked, a little tired of hero worship. The woman paused, thinking, and then turning around to a box of assorted mail. Sole’s face drained of color, this would take a year. Sole walked behind the counter, looking over the filing system. It was non existent. “What’s your name?”

“Ann” She replied, looking up from the mail bin. She was already cringing back, ready to be yelled at. 

“What do you need to help you out here?” Sole asked calmly, looking her in the eyes. The woman blinked in surprise. 

“I, um…” She took a breath, and collected herself, then smiled at Sole. “First we need more than a few mailboxes.” Ann gestured to the rusted out boxs nailed to the wall. “And then we can get a decent system. But the main problem is the letters getting ruined by the caravans.” She showed Sole the blurred scraps of paper with scrawled out writing. “I think some kind of folder would help-”

“You mean like an envelope?” Sole asked, starting to get the picture. “Before the war, we put letters in paper envelopes to protect them. We could make a few out of old magazines or newspaper. Not ideal, but it might help.” Ann nodded excitedly. 

“The other problem is the lack of writable paper… But if we set up some kind of press, we could recycle newspapers or old clothes into something that could work.” Ann continued, already scribbling out the ideas on her counter with a piece of charcoal. “And then we could have a real system going! Maybe even actual couriers for the letters-”

“And I’ll get that for you, but I need to find something that would have come from Good Neighbor.” Sole persisted. Ann snapped back to reality and nodded, running hands through her hair, calming down. 

“Right of course.” She said, heading to the mailbin. “We got something from that way yesterday, I think...” She dug through the bin, moving past the packages and letters, until a small package caught her eye. She pulled it out quickly and read the scrawled writing. “From.. Kent, to... -” Sole grabbed it from her fingers, hastily unwrapping the brown paper to reveal a holotape case. On the tape label was written: The Shroud v.s. MantaMan. Definitely from Kent. She opened the case, and there was the holotape, along with a handwritten note from Kent. 

“About those things…?” Ann started, unsuredly. Sole looked up, excitement and fear welling up inside her, she rushed forward and hugged the poor woman tightly. 

“Ann, you tell Preston to get you _anything_ you need. General’s order.”

\----------------------------------------

Sole had to get away from everyone. There wasn't anywhere in Sanctuary private enough for what she needed, so that left only one place. 

The walk up to the Vault felt surreal. She walked up the same path she and Nate had once ran up centuries before. She passed the skeletons along the path. They would never know how lucky they were to have died so quickly. Vaporized before Vault Tech could get their claws into them. 

There was a trailer on the platform, she’d once come to it frantically looking for survivors. Sole sat inside now, back against the cold metal. The desk fan on the desk nearby spun slowly, the only sign of life in the place. 

She took a breath before unfolding Kent’s note. Anything to delay the inevitable.

__

_To ~~The Shroud~~ Sole,_

__

_~~Don’t listen~~ When you asked me to fix this, I thought it was going to be a new Shroud radio play, or maybe a new song. ~~I couldn’t stop crying~~ Before you listen to it, I wanted to thank you. Before I met you, I was stuck in the past. Every cap I made from the radio, I spent on the Memory Loungers ~~and day tripper~~. After that business with Sinjin, I actually got my act together. I’m living in the present again. _

__

_I’m telling you this, because you need to know, you won’t find happiness in the past. I think this tape is something you need to hear, but don’t play it again. Don’t make the same mistakes I did._

__

_From ~~Your faithful sidekick~~ Kent_

Her hands shook as she folded the note away. In her fingers now was the tape. Hi Honey. The tape clutched in Codsworth lifeless robotic arm. She popped it into her pip-boy, and pressed play. 

_“Oops, haha. Keep those little fingers away…”_ Came Nate’s voice, crackling out of the tape. Her heartbeat faltered. _“Ah, there we go. Just say it, right there, right there, go ahead. Ah, yay! Hi honey, listen…”_ Tears were prickling at her eyes, threatening to pool and spill over. _“I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a mother you are.”_ She shut her eyes, sobs choking in her throat. _“But, we're going to anyway. You are kind, and loving, and funny, that's right, and patient. So patient, patience of a saint as your mother used to say.”_ **_My Mother…_** She was never going to hear her voice again. Not like this… Tears poured forth, the deluge of emotion finally breaking its damn. _“Look, with Shaun and us all being home together it's been an amazing year but even so I know our best days are yet to come. There will be changes sure, things we'll need to adjust to. I'll rejoin the civilian workforce, you'll shake the dust off your law degree.”_ Much good her degree was out here. Nate should have been doing this. He would have found Shaun by now. _It should have been me. Kellogg should have shot me._

 _“But everything we do no matter how hard, we do it for our family. Now say goodbye Shaun. Bye bye, say bye bye. Bye honey, we love you.”_ Then the tape clicked and there was only the sound of her sobbing into her arms, knees pulled up into the fetal position. She tried to stop, holding her hands to her mouth to strangle the sound from herself, but the tears kept coming, running over her fingers. Her bare fingers. She’d lost her ring on the run to the Vault. She must have. It wasn’t there when she stumbled from her cryopod. 

\----------------------------------------

It was dark when she emerged from that trailer, emotionally and physically exhausted. On Kent’s advice, she’d left the tape there. It wasn’t something she needed to hear again. 

Sanctuary looked amazing at night, lit up with christmas lights and jury rigged street lamps. The brightest lights came from the bar, where everyone was having a drink and letting out some steam form the day. Of course, in the middle of the laughter and cheers was Hancock, who was doing a great job of lifting morale on his own. 

“...So he says, ‘That’s fine, is the human fresh?’” A roar of laughter followed, Hancock took a swig of vodka from the bottle, sitting on a stool at the open air bar. She smiled, it was nice seeing him in his element, when it didn’t involve slaughter (although, she had to admit, she liked the finesse he had when ripping through hordes of raiders). She walked slowly down to the bar, slipping in to the crowd easily. Without her Vault suit it was easier to go unnoticed, and it didn’t hurt that everyone one was blind drunk. 

“Alright I got one,” A Minuteman beside him called cheerfully, turning to Hancock. “Ok, ok. How many Minutemen does it take to save a settlement?” Hancock grinned back, thinking for a moment, everyone in the crowd was already bursting with laughter. They knew the punchline. 

“I’ll bite, how many?” He asked.

“None, You Send The General!” The whole place rung with laughter, safe in the knowledge that Preston was off on patrol and their General was Atom-Knows-Where. Hancock chuckled along with them, but even from the edge of the crowd she could see a dark shine to his eyes, fingers already itching to grab his knife. She cleared her throat. At first only the people next to her noticed, but as if in a wave the crowd silenced with horror. She moved through the crowd, Minutemen parting before her. 

“That was pretty funny,” She admitted. “But I got something even better.” She sat herself down on a bar stool and turned to the crowd. “So, Preston get’s word that there’s a good place for a settlement down south.” She had to grin at the memory, in hindsight it already sounded like a bad idea. “And we go to this abandoned construction place, covered in mud and bloatflies.” She leans forward, the Minutemen crowding to hear. “The place is a shit hole, but Preston’s looking around, and says it’s ‘not that bad’. Great place to pump out some clean water if nothing else. Then the ground starts to shake, out come a dozen mirelurks.” The crowd was enraptured now. “So we kill them, barely. And Preston had the gall to start planning out where living quarters and farms could be set up, when the ground shakes again.” She is standing now, getting caught up in the story. 

“And what fucking comes up? A MIRELURK QUEEN! Preston turns to me, and you know what the fucker says to me?” She left a pause, a huge grin on her face. “He says-”

“ _At least there's only one of them._ ” A voice finished. They turned to see Preston, smirking, sitting at a table with a beer in hand. His trademark uniform replaced with a shirt and pants, the perfect disguise for a leader to infiltrate his own ranks. There was a pause, before he gave a small chuckle, and the relief in the room turned to laughter, uproarious laughter that rang through the settlement. Sole looked over at Preston, face sore from smiling, and her second in command nodded, raising a beer to her, before going back to his quiet drink. At least they’d managed to lift morale. Sole turned back to Hancock, but only saw the back of his coat tails disappearing into the crowd. He was leaving? Just then another round of beer came around, and her troops wanted a drink with their General. She’d have to find him later.

\----------------------------------------

Hancock walked into the cool night air. The sky was a sheet of black clouds, covering up even the moon. He started lighting a cigarette, but stopped. He needed something stronger. What did he have? He checked his pockets. He’d picked a few things up, little rarities he’d come across as they traveled. Jet fuel, Party-Time Mentats, something called Calmex… He told himself he only kept them for novelty, a reminder of his roots, but feeling that little syringe in his pocket pulled at something inside of him. He started to sweat. He needed one of his pills. He pulled out the jar, half gone now. He unscrewed it and popped one. Did Amari say one a day, or three? It hardly mattered now. 

“You remind me of a young man I used to know.” A raspy voice called into the dark of night. He spun around to see an old woman sitting in a chair in front of an old house. “Never looking for trouble, but always finding it.” He gave a rueful smile and walked towards the old crone. 

“Is that so?” He asked, looking down at her. She was different than the others, not just because she looked older than the Commonwealth itself. “Bet they weren’t half as handsome, though.” She had a knowing smile, kinda reminded him of his Ma. 

“That's good. Humor's a good way to cope.” She chuckled. “I know I wasn’t a barrel of laughs when I went clean.” His smile fell. “Of course that’s over now, and you look like a jet man.” 

“Well, you caught me.” He admitted, holding up his hands. “What’s it to you?”

“Got something with a bit of kick for me, kid?” She asked, the gleam of an addict in her eyes. “Make it worth your while.” He shuddered, and she swatted him with surprising strength. “Pull your head outta the gutter! I got a gift, could help you on your journey.”

“Sorry, not really interested...” Hancock started, turning away.

“Yeah, you seem to have things handled.” She shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He froze in his tracks, turning slowly back towards her, slow and deliberate. “Take your time, kid. I ain't goin' nowhere.” He put a hand on the head of her chair, gripping it tightly, looking into her beady little eyes. She didn’t flinch, this broad had _some_ nerve. 

“Well, ain’t that ominous.” He growled. “Mean anything by that?” She chuckled.

“Let me tell you a story, kid.” She began, he released his grip on the chair. “Once, there was beautiful young girl, with a special power. Used to get in all kinds of crazy adventures.” He crossed his arms impatiently, was this going somewhere? “She meets a handsome young boy, but he doesn't like her power. Thinks it makes her a slave to something evil, and so the power goes away, and it's not there when the girl and the boy need it most.” Her voice dropped lower, pang of regret in it. “Now the boy's gone, and the girl's old. But she has friends. And her power keeps them safe. That's all that matters.” She looked up at him, a sadness in her eyes. “If you let me, I could help you. It could save her.” He looked around, it was just the two of them out here. He reached into his coat and pulled out the Jetfuel. She let out a whistle, and took it from his hands. She took a long hit of the inhaler.

“Oh lord... That's pure... Gonna be an interesting trip…” She murmured. Her eyes closed, but her head jerked, as if watching things around her, body trembling. 

“Yeah, take it all in Grandma...” Hancock mused, watching her carefully. Finally she gasped, eyes shooting open. 

“She’s confused, hurt, drowning in old and new memories.” The old woman started, voice raspier than before. “She’s hiding behind a broken mask.... But could you love the woman beneath it?” She took a breath, closing her eyes again, exhausted. “I saw a lot, kid, but the best advice I can give you: Don’t run away this time.” She opens her eyes and looks into his deep coal eyes. “Don’t let her go, no matter how scared you get.” She took another breath, before closing her eyes.

“Kinda vague advice, Grandma.” He muttered, going back to his cigarette, lighting it up. “Can’t really see leaving her, myself.” He glanced back at the woman. “Christ! You still with me?” She coughed into her hand, the sudden lurch making him jump.

“Don't mind me, kid.” She said, opening her eyes, only to cough again. “The chems are just... acting up a bit. I'll be fine... eventually...” He sighed in relief.

“Lady, you should lay off for a bit. And that’s _me_ saying that!” Hancock scolded. She waved his concerns away.

“Ain't nothin' wrong with a bit o' kick. Don't let nobody tell you otherwise.” She dismissed. There was a silence, the still of the night occasionally punctuated from distant laughter from the bar. He looked over at it, a little longingly.

“Holding all that pain in is worse than any chem, kid.” The woman observed. “How about you just talk about it? Nothing embarrassing you can say around me. I've heard it all.” He sat on the lawn beside her, sighing as he leaned against her chair. 

“Fell for her because I thought she’d be a bad decision, turns out she was the best.” He started, looking up at the starless sky. “Followed her to hell and back, then to here...” He closed his eyes, it was hard saying it outloud. “And when we got here, she was being more cryptic than usual. I figured she had a piece on the side stashed up here… I was right.” 

\----------------------------------------

_**Several hours ago** _

“Hey, uh, Hancock.” Preston called over to the ghoul as he sat on the remnants of a child's climbing frame, smoking. It hadn't taken him long to get bored of the bar. Hancock looked up at him, lifting the edge of his tricorn hat to meet the man's gaze. 

“Yeah, Garvey?” He asked, keeping the irritation out of his voice. 

“Have you seen the General around,” He asked, ignoring Hancocks tone. “I was hoping she was with you, she was supposed to talk to the Minutemen.” Hancock sat up, that was the same story he'd heard. Something was up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have a look for her.” He replied, standing up and grinding out the cigarette. “Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle lifting a finger...” He took off before Preston could say another word. He had other things to worry about than a Minutemen’s bruised ego. 

He caught sight of her leaving one of the shacks, heading up a hill behind the Settlement. Now what was she up to? He trailed behind her, she was too preoccupied to notice his footsteps far behind hers. 

She holed up in a ratty old trailer on some kind of Vault platform. It took a moment for the cap to drop, this was _her_ vault. He crept beside the old trailer, and heard a voice crackle to life. 

“Oops, haha. Keep those little fingers away…” _Ohno._ The tape played, and his stomach twisted when he heard her sobs. He shouldn’t have been there. He was intruding on a part of her life he could never be a part of. He backed away, heart pounding. All those jokes, pointless teasing… And she was still coping with this loss. He thought she had a boyfriend up here. No, she had a _husband_. 

\----------------------------------------

__  
****  
****

**_Present_ **

Sole staggered out of the bar, head buzzing just enough to drown out any thoughts. Where could she piss? They had an outhouse somewhere… She leant against a shack wall. Damn, she didn’t recognize anything. Hold on, there was a toilet at home. She started towards her house, weaving around the road. The other Minute men were filtering back to their living quarters, giving her approving looks and cheers as she passed them. Until she reached her front step, and staggered through the living room.

It was the one place untouched by the Sanctuary restoration project. At her request. She moved through the hall, tripping over the remnants of her Mr. Handy, giggling as she did. Before bursting into the bathroom. 

The plumbing hadn’t worked in 200 years, but the place smelled so bad anyway, it hardly mattered. 

After her business had concluded, she started to pull her jeans up, already thinking about the whiskey they kept on the side. That's when she looked up at the bathroom mirror. The same one she and Nate had used the day it all went to hell. _War. War never changes…_ She shook it out of her head. She had to get out of here. She bolted down the hall, hitting the walls on her way, knocking down old worn picture frames. She stumbled out the door, out of breath. She needed a drink. The Bar was shut, but there was a stash she kept in the workshop…

She made her way to the work stations across from her. She didn’t think Mrs. Rosa would have minded her using her old house as a base of operations. Sole went to a large tool box next to her armor bench. It was locked tight, just as she’d left it. She pulled out a hair pin and even in her inebriated state she could pop the lock. 

“You're pretty handy with a bobby pin.” A voice said behind her. She looked over to see Preston, still in civilian attire. She laughed and opened the tool box. “I'll have to keep in mind that you can do that.”

“You should have seen me in college, would have done a hellova a lot worse for a drink.” She slurred, already reaching for the bottle of moonshine she’d saved there. 

“I'm not sure this is the best way to promote the Minutemen…” He cautioned, watching her drink from the bottle straight. She coughed, laughing. 

“Needs a chaser, got any whiskey?” She asked, already looking through the toolbox for some. She could have sworn she swiped some from a hotel minibar at some point… 

“I got some water.” He replied, “And you can chase that with more water. You need to sober up.”

“Buzz kill,” She spat, pulling out a tiny bottle of cheap whiskey. “Why don’t you have a pilsner or some other piss?” She sipped the ancient whiskey, it tasted worse than the moonshine. He sighed and went to the workbench, grabbing one of the millions of beer bottles. Sole hated the stuff and had dumped it there anytime she found some. He cracked the top off and sat next to her on the cold pavement. 

“There are days where I think I may have made some poor choices in life.” He sighed with a smile. She giggled at that.

“Yeah, you made me General. Can’t get much worse than that.” She laughed. 

“Actually, I couldn’t have picked a better person.” He objected. “You’re kind, brave, capable, patient-” His words were killing her buzz.

“Don't project your hero fantasies onto me,” She cut him off sharply. She took another swig of moonshine, trying to blot out what little feeling had come back. “Preston. I'm not who you want me to be.” She looked down at her bottle.

“I get it, I just wish you’d give yourself a bit more credit.” He said somberly, taking a measured sip of his beer. “You really are one of the good guys.” She snorted, knocking back the rest of the whiskey. She couldn’t feel her skin anymore, that was a fun level of drunk. Maybe drinking 200 year old whiskey was a bad idea. “You know... things have been going so well lately, I was thinking…” She looked up, eyes only half open. “There's a lot of bad in the world, but there's a lot of good, too.” She nodded, leaning back against the aluminum panels of old world house. “There was a while there where I didn't think life was worth living. That's all changed now, thanks to you.” She smiled, eyes closed.

“Feelings mutual,” She murmured. “Things were looking rough ‘til I ran into you guys...”

“I really think there are better days coming.” He said, a smile in his voice, finishing his beer. “You're the best leader the Minutemen have had since General Becker was killed. I'm proud to call you a friend.” She nodded, setting the bottle of moonshine down. 

“You're someone the Minutemen can follow. Hell, you even inspire me.” He continued, “I never expected to-” A short snore cut him off. She was out cold. He smiled and shook his head. Probably best she slept it off anyway. 

“You never expected to what?” Someone asked behind him. Preston looked behind him to see Hancock, illuminated against the glow of the street lights. Preston stood up, dusting himself off. 

“Nothing really. Do you need something?” He replied carefully. Hancock glanced at Sole, out cold against the house. 

“You just gonna leave her like that?” Hancock asked in annoyance. “She’s gonna have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.” Preston took a moment, looking the Mayor over.

“Mind giving me a hand?” He asked genuinely. Hancock blinked in surprise. “Her quarters are just inside, she liked being close the workshop when she stayed here. But I’ve had a few and don’t want to drop her.” 

“Yeah, yeah of course.” The ghoul agreed, moving towards her. They each took an end, Hancock got the legs and Preston took the brunt of the weight with her torso. They moved her to the cot inside, next to all her gear. Around them were the sounds of other sleeping settlers. Hancock made sure to roll her on to her side, you could never be too safe. 

“You got it that bad?” Preston asked quietly as they walked out. Hancock wanted to deny it, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Preston chuckled as they walked down the street. “Yeah, she’s something. Should have said something back when we were traveling around, but it just never seemed like the right time.” They passed under the street lights, the only lights in the night sky. “But after we retook Castle, I had to take care of the Minutemen, and she had to find her son… Wasn’t fair on her to keep her from her boy. Besides, turns out she wasn't the right one for me after all.” He let out a long breath, then turned to Hancock, a serious expression on his face.

“But take it from me, if you care about her, don’t wait until it’s too late to say something.”

\----------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---------------------------
> 
> Heya, this is a whole new chapter, so it took a little longer. I always wanted to flesh out Sole and Hancock a little more, and this was probably the best place to do it. Also, in a few more chapters i'll be adding to the tags, adding more characters tags and such. Also, as a fore warning, the next chapter will contain **smut**. Like, it's totally skippable, i'll mark where it starts and ends in the chapter, but if you want a bit of smut, it will be there. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, I love watching that little 'hit' counter slowly ticking up :) not to mention all you beautiful people who hit 'kudos' :) thank you guys so much!!
> 
> Edit: Jesus. Just read this chapter over and it was entirely incoherent. Like, I couldn't even get through it and I **wrote** it! Anyway, fixed most of it. I have fired my editor.


	11. It Should have been me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Warning: Smut, and Major Character Death_
> 
>  

\-------------------------------------------

The Co op was close by, they set off from Sanctuary at noon, after Sole slept off her hangover. Now it was clear sailing to their destination. 

“... I’m just saying, it shouldn’t be too hard to make cheese. I’m shocked no one’s tried it.” Sole continued. “And bread! Razor grain isn't **as** versatile as wheat, but it could be done.” 

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re obsessed?” He joked. “Never met someone so fascinated with what ends up as shit.”

“I would’ve agreed with you a few months ago.” She admitted. “But now… It's like a challenge. Figuring out how to make things taste better than edible. But hey, if you’d rather go back to eating cold cram…”

“Not complaining,” Hancock answered, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just not a subject I’m well versed on. Well except…” He coughed, looking away.

“Except what?” She demanded, smiling eagerly.

“Well… My mom… She used to bake mutfruit pie…” He started nervously. “Used to help her out sometimes…” She got a huge grin, grabbing hold of his elbow.

“Yes! That sounds perfect!!!” She gushed excitedly. He was taken by surprise as she held onto his arm, hugging it tightly. _Well this is new._.“Oh hey I can see the Co op!” She said smiling, letting go of him. “Race you!” She took off, stunning him for a moment, before he grinned and dashed after her.

The Co op was fevered with activity. Agents were scanning the perimeter, helping construct the teleporter, or resting up before it was their turn. Sole was nearly shot on sight by an unwary agent unfamiliar with her, but Deacon was quick to meet her to dissuade gun fight. 

“Hey you made it to the party,” Deacon greeted her warmly. “Sorry, but it’s bring-your-own-beer.”

“Man, these Rail signs are getting complicated.” She joked, walking towards the Co op with him. “What do I say to that? _‘Sorry, I only drink Vim?’”_ Hancock caught up to them, out of breath. “So how’s the bbq looking?”

“Not cooking yet, but we should be grilling by tomorrow… You know we don’t have to use code here.” Deacon pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s fun. Keeps me on my toes.” She teased. She turned back to Hancock. “Oh hey you finally caught up.” He gave a wheezing laugh and a thumbs up, stopping for a moment to get his breath back. 

“Could use some jet after that.” He rasped. 

They settled in the main barn where the hive of activity was centered. Desdemona was smoking, reviewing reports and such. She reminded Hancock of Fahrenheit, and it gave him a twinge of worry. How was she doin holding up the fort in his absence? 

“Charmer.” Des greeted Sole curtly. Sole cringed, looks like forgiveness wasn’t going to be forthcoming. “Has Deacon briefed you on your assignment?” 

“Get in, find Patriot, get out. Is that close enough?” Sole asked, crossing her arms. Des flicked ash from the end of her cigarette.

“This isn’t a joke. Lives depend on this.” Des snapped. “If you’re not going to take it seriously then-” Deacon stepped in, clearing his throat. 

“Ok, let’s all calm down, not everyday we have a way into the institute, and someone willing to risk their neck to get there.” Deacon reminded her. Des frowned, grinding out her cigarette against the barn wall. 

“Tinker Tom says the device should be operational in the morning. Report to Carrington, he’ll give you a once over before the op.” She finished with annoyance, before turning her attention back to the reports pinned to the barn wall. Deacon moved them away and out of the barn. 

“When was the last time that woman took a shit?” Hancock muttered under his breath, making Sole chuckle. 

“Carrington's over here, word of warning, he doesn’t like being out in the open.” Deacon cautioned as they approached one of the cabins. 

“Ohno, and he’s usually so cheery.” She mused. 

\-------------------------------------------

“My compliments to Doctor Sun,” Carrington noted dryly, examining the stitches along her side. “His work is not entirely unfortunate.” He sat back. “You’re healing remarkably well, considering Agent Deacon said you were at death’s door.” She sat up, pulling her shirt back over the stitches and slipped on her leather jacket. He’d already given her a lecture on proper wound care after seeing her slap-and-dash work on her other side.

“He’s exaggerating.” She assured him. “I had a couple splinters, a few bruises, and a bit of a limp.” He frowned, a deeper frown than usual. 

“These stitches say otherwise.” He noted. He gave her a serious look. “Charmer, I am aware that you are frustrated with our organisation. I understand that.” She looked up at him in surprise. “Desdemona makes some… Interesting calls with the agents, often putting them in danger needlessly. This frustrates me as well. But at the end of the day, she doesn’t do so lightly. She fervently believes in the cause, and has little patience with with those who don’t.”

“Trust me, I believe in the cause.” Sole cut in bitterly. “I believe synths have every right to live and be free. I’ve already demonstrated I’d die for one, but at the end of the day I’m here to take down the institute.” He nodded.

“Not an unheard of motivation among agents.” He admitted. “It was what started my journey to the Railroad, well, mine and my sister’s.” He clasped his hands together. “Our parents were scientists, working in Diamond City. One day they both disappeared.”

“I had no idea…” Sole breathed. He cleared his throat.

“Well, the bottom line is that, no matter the motivation, you are dedicated to the Railroad. You have helped us considerably, do not believe it goes unnoticed.” He concluded. “Just do not be unfamiliar next time you are mortally wounded, Glory certainly isn’t.” 

\-------------------------------------------

She emerged from the cabin, feeling lighter than before, talking with the doctor had helped her more than she thought. Hancock waited on the porch, smoking to pass the time, practicing his smoke rings. He turned as the door creaked open. 

“You were in there long enough.” He noted, tossing the cigarette and stamping it out. “Got a clean bill of health?”

“Apparently so.” She replied, looking around. Deacon was probably off somewhere, helping keep watch over the safe house. “Nothing left to do now but wait…” Hancock looked down at her, she seemed anxious.

“You know, I feel lied to.” He teased. “I’m starting to think this isn’t a cookout at all.” Something flashed behind Sole’s eyes, her face lit up in inspiration. 

“You’re right…” She said, a smile forming on her lips. “We have all these people, there’s even a dining hall…” He saw ideas whirring through her head at a mile a minute. It was nice to see, but whatever she had planned wasn’t going to be easy. Things with her never were. 

\-------------------------------------------

“Shit…” Hancock muttered. They’d set up in a watchtower after clearing out the two raiders inhabiting it. Sole had set up her sniper rifle and was scanning the area when she got a wide grin on her face. When Hancock followed her gaze, he saw a very large, very dangerous, Deathclaw. “You’re not serious…” She was very serious. But what made her really smile, was that it was engaged in a territory conflict with a radscorpion. 

“Need a lot of meat to feed a lot of people…” She murmured. “I don’t get to work with Deathclaw often…” She waited, watching the fight progress, until finally the Deathclaw ended the encounter with a swipe of a clawed hand. 

“You have some serious thrill issues….” He muttered, but she ignored him.

“Finally…” She focused her crosshairs over the Deathclaw, letting out a breath, before squeezing the trigger. It clipped it’s shoulder. She swore under her breath. The Deathclaw looked around wildly for the source of the shot. Sole calmed herself and took another shot. This one dug into their chest. The Deathclaw whipped around and looked right at them. 

“You think he noticed that one?” Hancock growled, already getting a few molotovs together. The ‘Claw started loping towards them. Sole kept taking shots, focusing fire on its legs to slow it down. Finally, just short of the watchtower, she crippled one of its legs. It limped towards them, still terrifyingly powerful. One swipe from it and they would end up like the radscorpion. Hancock started chucking the molotovs at it, exploding with fiery gusto upon impact. It worked through the pain, continuing on. 

“This thing just won’t quit!” Hancock said through gritted teeth. “Could’a used those grenades about now…” It was almost to them, powerful claws stained with viscera. Sole pulled out her pistol, popping off rounds into the beast’s face, its large leathery hand rising up to tearaway at the watchtower supports, but fell just in time. The Deathclaw collapsed. Sole took a moment to catch her breath. She really needed a better hand weapon. 

“Time to collect.” Hancock grinned. 

“Is this everything?” Sole asked, looking at the ingredients in front of her. It was a considerable haul. On top of the Deathclaw and Radscorpion she, Hancock, and two other agents had retrieved, they’d found some Radscorpion eggs, and some silt beans. On top of that, there had been some tatos and razorgrain growing on the co op, as well as what some of the agents were carrying around. It was all going to good use. 

“Not enough for you?” Hancock asked with a smirk. She smiled and shook her head. 

“Nah, just making sure.” She replied, tying her hair back to help her focus on the task. She’d instructed some free agents to bring the orange grill Des had been using as an ashtray, as well as clean it out. It would be vital for grilling some of the vegetables. There was a rotary cooking station near the dining hall, she was already cooking some of the Radscorpion on it. 

“Now you just need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron.” Deacon joked off to the side, having invited himself to the conversation. 

“Some of us don't need an excuse.” Hancock muttered in annoyance. 

“So what’s on the menu?” Deacon continued, ignoring the remark. 

“The Deathclaw meat is nice and juicy, but really tough.” She started, speaking more to herself than him. “The softer cuts could be steak (served with insta-mash), but the rest maybe best as a stew. The silt beans will be vital for that…. And the Radscorpion will be good as just a roast with some grilled carrots and tatos… As for the eggs, a good old fashioned wasteland omelette. But man, I would kill for some salt.” She laughed. “Of all the things to miss, it’s good old fashioned salt and pepper.”

“Salt, huh…?” Deacon asked, mulling it over. “I mean you could try brining it in salt water, but it’d only add rads…” She nodded in agreement.

“Guess this will have to do.” She sighed. 

Somehow it all came together. It was satisfying in its completion. The agents ate in shifts, to maintain protection of the safehouse.

First course was Deathclaw steak with insta-mash and grilled carrots. Second Course was grilled radscorpion with roasted veggies. The final course was the Deathclaw stew. It was the most labour intensive, and practical. The juices of the previous meals, as well as the leftovers, were tossed into a stew pot suspended over a fire, and simmered for hours. She’d even ground up the razorgrain and some dried noodles into flour, combined with water and radscorpion egg, to make some thick pasta. 

It was the perfect thing for the agents on the night shift, needing something to warm them up in the cool of the night. Even Des was impressed at how well it went over. She was particular to the Deathclaw steak. Deacon kept teasing that he’d have preferred Mirelurk. 

She sat on the far bench in the dining hall beside Hancock, tired but happy, her head in her arms and slumped onto the table. 

“Why on earth was I a lawyer?” She asked, voice muffled. “I clearly missed my calling.”

“Clearly.” Hancock smiled, ruffling her hair, loosening the worn elastic band that tied back her hair. “You were wasted on the old world.” She sat up again, taking out the elastic. 

“I suppose,” She murmured. “Still…” A sad look came fell over her. 

“Hey, you did good out there.” He insisted. “Don’t think these guys have had decent meal like that in awhile.” She forced a smile and shrugged. “I think they needed a win.”

“Well, they’re getting a pretty big one tomorrow.” She mused, resting her head in her hand. “First agent to make it inside the institute of their own free will.” 

“Yeah, sneaking in isn’t my style.” He teased. “Can’t we just go in with a few miniguns and have at it?” She gave a hollow laugh.

“You’d love Glory.” She said with a smile, looking away. “I should introduce you.”

“I think I like you just fine.” He countered with a smirk. She turned in surprise. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face, revealing a blush across her face. “Why so surprised, Sunshine?” 

“Just, heh.” She gave a soft laugh just above an exhale. “I mean, I kissed you but thought that was just par for the course for you.” She looked around, a few eyes from the other agents averting their gaze as she caught them. “Let’s uh, step outside…”

\-------------------------------------------

“You never struck me as shy.” Hancock noted as they skimmed the perimeter of the Co op. “Any reason you needed fresh air?” She could hear the tone of his voice.

“Just wanted a bit of privacy. Too many eyes in there.” She explained. It was the nature of an organisation that lived and died on information.

“Oh, I feel ya.” Hancock shrugged. She stopped behind a cluster of trees, she could tell where his head was at.

“I don’t think you do,” She said. “I don’t care what they think. It’s not that. But there are some parts of my life I’d prefer to be… Unexamined.” She smiled at him, reaching for his hand. He pulled away slightly. 

“Not a stranger to anything casual, but…” He started. She moved forward, he stepped back, stopped short by the trees. He had his back against the petrified bark, starting to sweat. What the fuck was wrong with him? How was he the one in a corner? She smiled. 

“But…?” She pressed, giving him the inches of space needed. Exactly, what was holding him back? Same thing that almost stopped him going into the V.I.P. lounge what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was in love. Fuck. 

“You know what? It’s nothing.” He answered with a grin. He leaned in, and kissed her. A long, hungry kiss, that left them gasping for air. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, their lips parted.

“Glad for the fresh air now?” She asked, a breathless laugh on her lips. Her very soft, kissable lips. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her. “You think anyone’s at that WatchTower?” 

“Christ, I hope not…” He breathed, fingers already slipping beneath her shirt. She moved his hands away, smiling devilishly. 

“Patience, sweety, nothing good comes easy.”

“Who said I was easy?”

**\-------------------------------------smut-----------------------------smut-------------------------------smut-----------------------------------smut---------------------------------------**

**Skip down for a fade to black cut**

They tore through the field, towards the watchtower, racing each other to the spot. They reached it, tagging the floor with a hand each, breathless and smiling. Hancock sat against the short wall of the watchtower, pulling Sole against him. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath.  
“If someone told me this is where we’d end up a month ago, I would have asked what the hell they were on.” He sighed happily. “I’d loved to have skip straight to this...”  
“And miss out on all my one liners?” She asked, pouting.  
“Oh yeah, more reasons to skip forward.” He teased, running a finger through her hair, and kissing the top of her head. She sat up, turning to him, a smirk on her lips.  
“Even if you missed out on my Shroud escapades?” She pressed, running her hands up his crossed legs, lingering at his crotch. He groaned softly, struggling to keep the train of conversation.  
“You’re starting to make some good points…” He moaned, her fingers moving beneath his ruffled shirt and sash, stroking the scarred skin. She leaned in, kissing him fiercely, while her fingers undid the sash, then the fasten on his trousers. She moved back, but his lips followed hers, leaning forward, reluctant to let go. She broke away, gently pushing him back with a smile. He almost protested, but she silenced him with finger tips, lifting up the ruffled shirt, and brushing aside the coat. She bent down, soft kisses on his skin. He bit his lip, stifling a moan, melting beneath her kiss. She moved down, her hands pulling down the constricting colonial pants, and unsheathed his erect cock.  
She stroked it, feeling it pulse and twitch under her touch. She felt her mouth water, eager to taste what she’d wanted for far too long. She bent down, letting her tongue run up the shaft, feeling the veins and ridges of the mottled skin. And to think, the old me would have been shocked by someone being uncircumcised. She thought, smiling to herself. Her fingers stroked beneath him, hearing him gasp as she ran over sensitive areas.  
After teasing him, she finally looked up at him, starting slide his cock into her mouth, her tongue caressing it as it went. His being seemed to ripple out with pleasure, leaning his head back, helpless to move. She kept sucking, sliding it until it hit the back of her throat, easily swallowing down the gag reflex. Her lips tightened around his cock, desperate for it, fingers grasping at his hips, hungry for the just the feel of him beneath her hands.  
Hancock writhed, it was torture being at her mercy, trying to hold back. He wasn’t going to blow his load in the first two minutes, what was he? Fourteen? He bit his lip, almost whimpering as she sunk his cock deeper down her throat, her tongue nearly at Statehouse jewels. She looked up at him, a smirk visible in her eyes, while her lips were preoccupied elsewhere. His nails dug into the rotting wood of the watchtower, unable to hold on much longer… She felt a small jet of flavour hit her tongue, tingling as she swallowed it down. That was only the warm up for the big finish. She slid his cock out, to his immediate relief, and smiled.  
“Hey, tell me if it’s glowing.” She teased, sticking out her tongue. He chuckled softly, pulling her close.  
“Under the right light it would…” He answered, pulling her in for a deep, fevered kiss. His body was aching to be near her, but he parted their lips. He started to take off his coat, but she stopped him, tugging it back on.  
“Oh no, that has to stay…” She whispered with a playful smile.  
“And the hat?” He asked, putting a hand to the rim of his tricorn hat.  
“That’s negotiable…” She replied, leaning forward to kiss him again. “But the pants have to go.”  
“No arguments here….” He replied, already eagerly slipping them off, forgetting about the boots. She saw his difficulty and moved down his body, tugging off each boot with a swift motion, and slipping off his trousers. She ran her fingers over his pock-marked skin, and surprised him by kissing her way up them, finishing at his hips.  
There was no hesitation to her touch, no recoil at the sight of his skin. He’d figured she was with him to scratch that itch of being with a ghoul, she wouldn’t have been the first. But the way she touched him, stroked him… He may as well have been a smooth skin again. Then she started to undress and it pulled his thoughts away from anything else.  
First her leather jacket, the tight leather peeling off audibly. Then she took the bottom of her shirt in both hands and pulled it off slowly over her head, in a far too practiced motion that still drove him wild.  
He couldn’t resist feeling her, his hands slid up her body from her hips, relishing every inch of silken skin. It was otherworldly how soft it was, as if she bathed in liquid velvet. It struck him then, that there was no one like her in the Commonwealth. Maybe even in the whole Goddamned world. She pushed him back again, knowing just how to grow his hunger. She unbuttoned her jeans, the zipper long since broken, and slid them off, tossing them in a pile with his own.  
His heart was pounding out of his chest, this was it. She straddled him, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him, tongues entwined, lust consuming them. Without breaking away from his lips, she took his swollen cock in her fingers, and started to guide it into her, a gasp escaping her lips as it slid in. It was slow, their bodies trembling in anticipation and pleasure as it filled her.  
She felt as their hips met, whimpering in pleasure, clutching his body to hers. He held her, feeling her hot breath against his neck, the sweat that was already beading down her back. He stroked down her spine, feeling her shiver in his arms. She rested against him, and he could smell the campfire smoke still on her skin.  
Then she moved back, the simple motion sending shocks of pleasure through them, and started to ride his cock. He held her hips, and thrust against her in time, their motions insync. Each time they drove into each other, led to a desperate moan of pleasure, growing faster, more fervent with every stroke.  
Sole could barely keep up, sweat dripping off her body, body begging for respite, but still ravenous for release. She couldn’t last much longer, she was going to climax… She gripped Hancocks body, back arching in pleasure.  
“OoOoooh Hanckcock…” She moaned, her thrusts more laboured as she felt herself about to… She cried out, unable to stop herself, almost collapsing onto him, panting for breath. He smirked, slowing his thrusts to a stop, cradling the exhausted Sole in his arms.  
“Lightweight…” He teased, but still trying to catch his own breath. She chuckled tiredly in his arms.  
“You just… Wait…. For round two..” She warned, a smile on her lips. He carefully scooted them away from the watchtower wall, and rolled them over, laying Sole on the floorboards.  
“Why wait…?” He teased, kissing down her body, watching her tremble with rapture. “Can’t let you have all the fun.” She could feel his cock jerk inside her, and she was helpless with hunger. She pulled him down for a kiss, her tongue begging for more, her body aching to be further satisfied. He parted their lips, now it was his turn to gently move her back down, letting her lie in wait for ecstatic delight.  
He starting to thrust inside her, gentle at first, but quickening the rhythm. She went from soft, sighing moans, to cries of pleasure. And he knew a few tricks to raise it to screams of ecstasy. He paused his strokes for only a moment, running his hand along her left leg, and carefully moving it to rest her calf on his shoulder. She writhed with pleasure, her lithe frame shaking with it. His thrusts went deeper than she’d ever experienced, her body desperate for the completion it would bring. She could barely contain herself, her hands groped his body, begging for it…  
His movements became faster, pulling himself deeper into her, feeling her body tighten around his cock. He gripped the short wall of the watchtower, biting his lip as he gave one last thrust, the floodgates bursting, and filling her with his his seed, the intense flow warming every inch of her. He gasped for breath, hanging over her for a second as they both recovered. Heads dizzy with ecstasy, bodies burning from exertion, sweat cascading off them. He slowly slid out of her, causing them both to sigh contentedly, and flopped beside her on the floor boards.  
He slipped off his coat tiredly, to her quiet protest, and draped it over her. She smiled at him gratefully.  
“Are you… Always a gentleman?” She asked between breaths.  
“Hardly ever…” He replied, stroking her cheek.  
“I must be lucky then…” She murmured, resting her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body against the cool of the night air. “I’ve only seen you as one.”  
“Didn’t mean to give the wrong impression…” He kissed her lips, a short sweet kiss, that left her leaning after him as they parted. He smiled, watching her lay beside him. He sighed, content- no… Happy. He couldn’t remember being happier than he was right then.  
If this turned out to be all one big jet flashback, he was going to be pissed.

**\-------------------------------------end of smut-----------------------------end of smut-------------------------------end of smut-----------------------------------end of smut---------------------------------------**

They rested into the small hours of the night. The air was still, accentuating the quiet that settled around them. They were far from the hum of the Co ops generators, far from the fire fights in the distance on the far away overpass, and even further away from the bright lights of Sanctuary in the North. For a moment, the world seemed to turn without them.

The two lay beside each other, Hancock’s coat draped over them to keep off the chill of the night air. 

“What do you think it will be like?” Sole asked softly, resting against his chest, fingers stroking his skin. “The institute, I mean.” 

“Huh, not the pillow talk i’m used to...” He replied with a soft chuckle. “I figure there’s a lot of chrome. Polished surfaces. A lot of microscopes… Chalkboards filled with nefarious schemes…” Sole smiled at that. It was about how she imagined it might be too, like the lair of an evil villain from the comics she used to read.

“Man, if they buy my cover, I hope they let me use a shower…”She sighed. “They gotta have showers, right?” It was one of the many things she missed from before the war. That and toilet paper. There were some things dead leaves and wishful thinking couldn’t get rid of.

“How long you plan on staying there?” Hancock asked carefully. It wasn't something they had talked about. He’d assumed the whole thing would take a few days, a week at most. He didn’t like the idea of her going it alone, but he wasn’t exactly institute friendly. 

“As long as it takes.” She replied with a shrug. “Might take me months to get into their good graces. Might take me a week. They might shoot me on sight…” Hancock stiffened. “I mean, they might. But it's not likely. If they wanted me dead they would have done it already.” His stomach dropped, it hadn't been the answer he was hoping for. He took a deep breath.

“... And what should I do?” He asked dryly. It was a loaded question, but she seemed oblivious to the implication.

“Whatever you want, head back to Goodneighbor, stick around the Railroad, learn macrame…” She replied casually. He felt all the happiness he’d felt slowly growing within him, suddenly rot. She didn't care about him. Didn't love him, not really. This was all a casual fling. Maybe even a rebound. Either way, he’d let himself get in too deep. Now it was time to get out.

“Right.” He growled softly, sitting up. “Probably best we part ways now then.”

“What? You’re not going to see me off? Wish me bon voyage? Throw me a hanky?” She joked, but she had to work to keep the surprise out of her voice. She wasn't sure where this was coming from.

“Real funny. Make a joke.” He muttered, already reaching for his pants. She was silent for a moment as it hit her.

“You’re really… Leaving?” She asked softly.

“Managed to piece that one together yourself, huh?” He asked bitterly, tugging on his trousers. “First sense you’ve shown in a while.” 

“I thought… We…” She started, voice cracking.

“Yeah, I thought we were a thing too, but I guess that was never the plan, was it?” He spat, slipping on his worn boots. Never the plan? She didn't plan any of this. She never thought she’d end up here with him, she always figured his flirting was a joke. A cruel joke. A way of teasing her about the little crush she’d had on him since she first saw him swagger to her rescue. But she guessed that had just made her an easy mark.

She took a steadying breath, snatching her own clothes off the ground, and tossing him his coat. 

“Fine, great. Just fucking dandy!” She seethed, tugging her shirt back on. “I was getting tired of carrying you across the Commonwealth.” She stood up, starting to slip on her jeans. She bit her lip tightly, tearing at the skin. The pain helped keep her focused.

“And how many fucking times have I saved your ass?” He snapped, slipping on his coat. He had to turn away, he could still feel her warmth in the wool of the coat.

“I can't believe it…” She muttered to herself angrily, pulling on her jacket. Right when she would need him most, he decides he has better things to do… She could feel herself start to shake. Fury was roiling through her, burning through her veins. 

“Remind me why I signed up for this again? Was I on something at the time?” He growled, arms crossed. Angry, but empty words kept tumbling out, filling the space where an apology should have been. He couldn’t stop them, his insides felt as though a ripper were grinding it's way through him. The pain spilling out as anger. 

Sole had to pull herself together, she saw the flash of red flare across her vision, making her almost light headed. Her hands balled into a fist, and it took every ounce of self control to keep it by her side. She knew she was only moments away from losing control. And despite everything, she didn't want to hurt him.

She took off down the ramp to the watchtower, towards the Co op, the pounding of her feet on the dry earth matching her heartbeat. Hancock gripped the watchtower wall, watching her go. Apologize you idiot, don’t let her go like this…. Instead he shouted after her, 

“Oh please, run away! Best decision you’ve made in a while.”

_That moment, watching her disappear over the hill, his own words echoing back at him… It would play over and over in his head. It didn’t have to end like that. If he’d just kept his lid on, trusted her… Maybe she would still be alive_

\-------------------------------------------

She slept fitfully that night, trying to catch a few winks in a far off cabin back at the Co op. It was the only empty one left, mostly because half of it was blown to hell. She hid in what little was sheltered.

She drifted in and out of sleep, sometimes waking up in fury, more arguments on her lips, but she was alone. She hugged herself, huddling against the wall of the cabin. 

She was one of the first to see sunrise, the dawn stained the night sky, burning red over the thick clouds. 

She rubbed her eyes of sleep. She was never happy to see the sunrise these days.

“Bbq’s ready.” A hoarse voice mentioned near her. She looked to her left, Deacon was leaning against the splintered cabin wall. She nodded, pulling herself up. She took a few breathes, waking herself up. He looked up at the dark grey clouds looming overhead. “Looks like we might get rain today, figures, am I right?” 

“Back in my day, it was washing your car that brought it out, not covert operations.” Sole mused, following the bright colours of the sunrise darken into the storm clouds above her. She stretched out her limbs, before forcing a smile. “Guess it's time to get cooking.”

“We better get this fired up soon, Des.” Tinker Tom warned at his control panel. “Can't promise there won't be any short circuits if it rains.” Sole sauntered up to the commotion. She eyed the teleporter, it was humming with ominous energy. 

“Bet that makes a killer latte.” Sole whistled. “I like mine with 2% milk and a dash of whip cream.” 

“Sorry, it only does espresso.” Deacon joked back, walking up with her. She was shaking with nerves and exhaustion, he needed to keep her talking as long as he could before the others saw how compromised she was. 

“Don't you mean express-o.” She laughed, elbowing him. “Cause it's a teleporter and...Oh forget it.” Des narrowed her eyes at Charmer. She ignored the look, stepping towards the platform. Deacon felt a knot form in his stomach looking up at the teleport. He put a hand on Sole’s shoulder, leaning in.

“It’s not too late to back out.” He muttered quietly, trying to maintain a smile. He couldn’t let Des know he of all people was having second thoughts. Sole gave a tired smile, looking back at him.

“You kidding me?” She whispered incredulously, “The betting pool against me won’t get any higher than it is now, and I plan on cashing in when I get back.” She winked at him and shrugged off his hand, going to stand on the platform.

“Do you have the holotape from Tom?” Des asked impatiently, but Sole could barely hear her over the teleporter and the wind through the petrified trees.

“Yupp, tape, got the thing.” She called over the noise, smiling obliviously. Des turned to Deacon, saying something with annoyance. Deacon responded reassuringly, before waving to Sole. He was the only one at least pretending to be cheerful, everyone else looked as though they were watching an execution. Sole forced her biggest grin yet.

“Hey, Don’t worry guys!” She called above the noise, “I’m wearing my lucky underwear.” There were a few nervous smiles at that.

The machine started to generate more light and noise, but even she could hear the low shaking rumble of thunder. Her head was spinning, a cold sweat coming over her, but she pushed through it with a laugh.

“Just kidding, I’m not actually wearing any-” She was cut off by a shock of lightning across the sky that flashed a green light over the Co-op.

There was some shouting, Tom was typing frantically into his terminal. She looked back at Deacon, her smile falling away. He gave his best reassuring grin, giving her a thumbs up... And that was the last thing she saw, before being ripped apart by a white light.

\-------------------------------------------

So many things happened in an instant. A bolt of green lightning struck the teleporter, the flash blinding everyone. When the white left their vision, the machine was in pieces. The clouds broke forth, rain pelting down at the dry earth. 

Des shouted orders, the terminals and control boards needed to be run into the barn. Agents needed to put on hazmat suits and retrieve the pieces of the teleporter. Deacon, needs to- He couldn't hear her anymore. He just stared at the scorch marks on the grass.

_He’d led her to this._

The rain poured down on him, he could feel the sting of acid mixed with the water. He was soaking up rads with every lightning bolt that forked across the sky. The droplets clung to his sunglasses, before running down his face. The closest to crying he could come. 

She was gone. And it was his fault. He’d drawn her to the Railroad. Made her promises, made her believe that her son was alive. He knew there was no happy ending that involved the institute, but he lied. He lied and told her it was going to work out.

In the end she knew that it was a lie. She knew nothing good was on the other side of that teleporter, but she went. And if she hadn't it would have been him. It should have been him. He should be the burnt shadow left on the grass, ripped into atoms, never to be seen again. 

A choking sob caught in his throat. He swallowed it down. He was breaking down out in the open. This was a new low. 

“Deacon, I’d advise you to get out of this rain.” A voice said to his left. He glanced over, it was Carrington, his white lab coat soaking through. Everyone else was gone, taking shelter in the barn or cabins. “I have some rad-away, I suggest you make use of it.” 

He sat in Carringtons makeshift medical center. He’d drunk two radaways and a tablet of Rad-x for good measure. He’d had time to process things, and the coping mechanisms had kicked in. 

“Deacon, how are you feeling?” Carrington asked hesitantly. He was prepared for medical emergencies. He could stitch up gaping wounds, staunch internal bleeding, and patch up every bullet wound his agents came to him with. But their emotional state was something alien to him. Especially Deacon’s. Minds had always been his sisters forte.

“Me? Right as rain Stanley!” He answered cheerfully. “I mean, I’ll be pissing orange for a month, but other than that couldn’t be better.” He hopped off his seat with an enthusiasm reserved for children and fools. The rain continued to pelt the cabin roof. Lightning flashed across the green-hued clouds, followed by cracks of thunder. “And how could I not feel dandy on a day like this?” Carrington pursed his lips. He was not handling this well.

“I spoke to Tinker Tom, he seems confident that the matrix held.” Carrington added, gauging his reaction.

“Of course it did!” Deacon laughed, the sound deeply unnerving the Doctor. “Charmer’s in there right now, kicking ass and taking names. By tomorrow she’ll have beaten the whole institute single-handedly. I got 10 caps riding on it in the pool.” His voice was tight, barely holding together. “And tomorrow morning, she’ll zap back here with an exodus of free synths. God knows where they’ll all stay. Knowing her, she’ll build them their own town. She’ll scrape together every cap she has just so they have a home.” He coughed, covering up the hitch in his voice. “She wouldn’t stop there. She’d build market stalls, set up trade, protect them. That always got me, the way she was always at everyone’s beck-and-call. If Garvey told her to jump, she’d ask how high. And she was the fucking general… Is... Is the fucking general…” He caught himself slipping up. 

He coughed again. “On second thoughts, I’ll bet 20 caps on it.” 

“Deacon, you knew when you recruited her...” Carrington started grimly, but Deacon cut him off with a sharp look. He of all knew the risks he’d taken bringing her into the fold, but she was never expendable. He never wanted her to...

The rain was letting up now, and the rolls of thunder had subsided to gentle rumbles into the distance. Deacon went to the cabin doorway, swinging open the screen door. He had to get out. He had to keep himself busy. 

“You can’t blame yourself!.” Carrington called after him. “She could still be out there!” Even if he was right, there were worse things waiting for her if she survived.

\-------------------------------------------


	12. 6(Hundred) Feet Under

_**Day 1** _

Crisp, clean sheets enveloped her limbs. Soft mattress beneath her. Everything was dark. 

_‘Open my eyes…’_ The thought crossed her mind. It took a moment before her eyelids fluttered open. _‘Hospital…?’_ She wondered, looking around the plain, but clean room. It smelled like sanitiser and plastic. It reminded her of when she’d been in the recovery room after having Shaun. Shaun. _‘Shaun!’_ She sat up bolt upright, looking around. Where was he? Where was her baby? There was no cot nearby. _‘Nate… He’s with Nate.’_ She remembered, relaxing again against the bed. She chuckled at herself. Shaun was two now, she didn’t need to worry so much. _‘No, wait.. Shaun is… Shaun is ten now…’_ The thought occurred to her. No that couldn’t be right. He’s two. He just turned a few months ago… 

She rubbed her forehead, something was wrong. She could remember his second birthday so clearly, he’d eaten a whole box of snack cakes and threw up on her Mother-in law. But she could remember him older, standing tall. He had Nate’s nose and chin, but he had her eyes… How old was her baby? 

Then the door to her room opened, revealing an older man in a white coat. Obviously her Doctor.

She sat up a bit, putting on a smile that hid she was falling apart.

“Hello, how are you feeling today?” He asked with a cheerful smile, coming to sit on a comfortable chair at her bedside. 

“I’m feeling… Ok…” She started, a little unsure. “Some things are a little hazy though…” He chuckled and nodded.

“That’s to be expected, what is the last thing you can remember?” He asked with a reassuring smile that reminded her of her Grandfathers. She thought back. She and Nate had been making Halloween plans, Codsworth was in the living room, Shaun was in his cotbed… But how could he? He was ten. The last time she saw him had been standing in the living room, but not their living room. Her head started to ache again. She was forgetting something.

“My baby…” She started, closing her eyes, trying to remember. “I remember him, standing- no, sitting. He’s in a living room with-” _‘Sitting with Kellogg.’_ Her stomach dropped. Her baby was with Kellogg. The man who killed- ‘Nate is dead’. She could remember now, seeing his body across from her, bullet straight to the head. 

This was no hospital.

“Where am I?” She asked coldly, opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?” The Doctor’s smile fell to a grave expression. He let out a deep sigh. 

“You are in the Institute. You passed out shortly after relaying here.” It sounded about right. The Institute had her son. It had been her goal from the beginning. How she’d ended up here hardly mattered. 

“Where’s Shaun?” She demanded, leveling her most withering glare at the man. He gave a small, sad smile. 

“Well, you did meet briefly, before you passed out.” The man explained. “It was impressive that you made it as far as you did before…” He shook his head. “The Shaun you saw as a ten year old boy, was not the real Shaun.” 

“So, my baby…” She leant forward, hopeful she might still get the chance to watch him grow up. 

“Your son is no longer a child.” The man replied, almost apologetically. “I’m afraid there was more than eight years between the day your son was taken, and the day you left the vault…”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been too long since she last showered. The hot water washed over her in a blissful way, she breathed in the steam that rose from the shower floor and sighed. The small pleasure helped her cope with the torrent of bad news she’d just recieved.

She reached for a clear plastic bottle of pink liquid, popping the top off and taking a sniff. It smelled like Vanilla frosting. There were no labels, so it would have to do as combination shampoo and bodywash. The gel spurted into her hand and she replaced the bottle before massaging it into her hair. There was a lot less dirt flowing down the drain than she would have thought. Maybe they bathed her while she was out cold.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the vanilla scent twisting it’s way into the steam. She started to softly hum. It suddenly felt as though no time had passed at all, and she was back standing in her old home. Codsworth was outside changing Shaun, Nate was drinking coffee in the kitchen… The bullet hole in his head leaking blood on the counter… She rubbed her eyes, trying to massage away the image. She couldn’t think about that. She’d killed Kellogg, she’d avenged him. She felt the weight of all the dried blood and grime that had weighed her down vanish as it was washed away. 

Something in her, something broken and selfish, was relieved. She was relieved Shaun had lived his life here. There was no denying she felt sick at all the time she had missed, but she was happy that he had lived in the safety of the Institute. The alternative was living in the Wasteland, where he wouldn’t have even lived to be sixty. 

He got to grow up with everything she could have wished for. Food, shelter, even an education. Not to mention luxuries like hot running water, toilet paper, and clean clothes.

She even entertained the idea of staying. Living here underground. Maybe overtime she could manifest change, create the better future they wanted without losing innocent lives. She could get to know her own son…

Maybe this was what she had been meant to do all along….

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Day 2** _

The Institute was a stark contrast to the wasteland. The whole experience didn’t seem real, her memories of the surface already seemed like a hazy dream. Bits and pieces seemed to drift in and out of her, but every time she tried to recall things, the details slipped away from her. It didn’t matter, she was here now.

Sole walked down the brightly lit halls, over the spotless tile floors. Everyone greeted her with a smile, saying how proud she must be of ‘Father’. That was his name here. Her little boy was the leader of an incredible institution. She came to rest on a bench in the main lobby, watching the water features cascade, smelling the well kept lawn and foliage nearby. 

This was paradise. The people here were working on projects that would revolutionize the world. Not to mention, she never had to go without toilet paper again. It almost made up for everything it took to get there… Almost..

_I...I woke up. I saw them take you. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't do anything…_

_I'm sorry. I really am._

She shook the conversation with her son from her mind. It didn't matter. She was here now. She had her son. She had a life. What else could she want? It could be just like it was before, maybe even better.

The lights dimmed overhead, simulating evening. People would be turning in now, others would be burning the midnight oil in their labs. The lobby was starting to clear out. She had a feeling there was something she needed to do but she brushed the thought away. It was about time she took a break. 

It was just her and a few others in the lobby now. Just people working on the makeshift garden, sweeping the floors… Her stomach twisted. Not people. Synths, the ones she was supposed to save. _No, don’t think about it. Don’t think about- Shit I’m thinking about it._ She stood up, polite smiles to the synths. Her _Grandchildren_. That was difficult to handle. 

She’d feel better after some sleep, right? Of course she would. Her footsteps were hurried over the tiled floor, making her way to Father’s quarters where she could crash on the couch. She just needed to cut past the Robotics lab- 

“Any news on phase four?” A voice asked around the corner. She stopped just short of the wall, she didn’t want to have to make conversation with any researchers right then.

“Father’s keeping it pretty under wraps, but at least we know the prototypes are functional, so far anyway.” 

“Shame about the kid, that’s going to be a lot of sleepless night in Advanced systems sorting out that software.” _There’s more than one fake Shaun? What, was her son trying to make an army of children?_

“It’ll be easier when we have more direct access like the other one.” _Direct access?_

“Anyway, gotta get back to the lab, sooner I work out these formulas, the sooner we can reschedule that date night.” There was a giggle, and that was her cue to back away slowly and get out of there. Back pedaling down the hall, she tried to ignore what they were saying. I mean, it wasn’t a big deal right? Synths were safer here than up there. They were happier here. 

She would be happier here…

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Day 3** _

She had her own room now, and all it cost her was the low _low_ price of someone else’s freedom. She sat on her bed. Her bed. Not a janky cot that had springs cutting into her, covered in piss and blood. An actual, clean bed. And all it cost was taking in the trash. That’s what that guy was. Trash. He was a raider, ruthless and merciless. 

She’d done it all within spitting distance of the Castle.

No one would recognize her of course, she upgraded to full synth armor, complete with a helmet that left _everything_ to the imagination. 

What mattered is she could keep busy, but maybe not with that courser, X6-88. It was like gunning down raiders with a particularly malicious calculator. Maybe next time she could do the dirty work with someone a little less static. 

The room had a shower, a toilet, and a desk. She could get around to that novel she always meant to write. Or she could take a stroll around the labs, maybe detour through advanced systems…

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

People were always surprised when she dropped in on them, like she was meant to stay in her room and wait for assignments. _Surprise! The old lady is nosy._

“I didn’t realize we were being graced with a visit.” Director Li scoffed, looking up from her tablet. It was refreshingly honest, the haughty disdain barely veiled. Most people here at least tried to seem polite.

“Just passing through, thought i’d get better acquainted with the technology.” Sole lied, smiling at her. 

“That’s like an amoeba saying it's getting acquainted with the microscope observing it.” She responded in annoyance. “What we are doing here is well above your comprehension.” 

“You know, the second they start handing out congeniality awards to researchers, you are a shooin.” Sole continued, glancing at the papers and diagrams that littered the lab. Her assistants had their backs turned, hiding wry smiles. 

“Sorry, I thought we were saving mankind, not competing in a popularity contest.” She shot back, putting down her tablet now. She sighed and rubbed her forehead with irritation. “Alright, what will it take to leave us alone?”

“Where’s the child synth?” Sole asked bluntly. The question knocked her back for a second, before regaining her composure.

“Has Father authorised this?” She asked cooly.

“He did mention bringing him back online so I could interact with him.” Sole answered vaguely. It wasn’t a lie, but he hadn’t exactly told her to go and do it just then. “And he did give me unfettered access to the Institute… Sooo...” Li sighed in exasperation.

“Alright, I’ll have one of my assistants fetch him.” She gave in. “What kind of ‘interaction’ did you have in mind?” Sole hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead, she just needed an excuse to be here, swipe a tablet, and get out.

“A game of catch?” Sole shrugged. Li gave her a withering look. “To, uh, test his coordination skills.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to her work and sending one of her underlings to fetch the boy. Just enough time to grab what she needed, thank god these Institute coats had inside pockets. She tensed as one of the researchers approached her, but they barely noticed her, reaching past her to grab a pack of cigarettes on the table beside her. She moved so he could reach them, and watched as he pulled one out of the pristine packet. 

“Mind sharing?” She asked casually, he shrugged and knocked another one out of the packet for her. She took it, trying to make it look natural. She’d never smoked before. 

“You know this habit could kill you.” He mentioned, holding out his lighter for her. She waved it away, still holding the cigarette.

“It might, if something else doesn't kill me first.” She shrugged back. He gave her a wary look, before shaking his head and lighting his own. He took a long drag, breathing out, and tapping ash neatly into a tray.

“So what’s your excuse?” She asked, looking around for who ever was supposed to be bringing the kid. The researcher paused, he was an older man, with salt and pepper hair, deep wrinkles set into his dark skin, and a look of general disdain. 

“Sooner these things take me, the better.” He replied bitterly. He seemed familiar, very familiar. Just then, another researcher came in with the child synth, the little kid looking unsuredly up at her. _Oh boy._ She looked back at the man, placing the cigarette back on the table. 

“Nice talking to you, Mr….?” She started, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

“ **Dr.** Carrington.” He corrected her sharply. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s it like on the surface?” He asked, tossing the baseball back to Sole. They were in the lobby playing catch, casually ignoring the stares by the researchers. 

“Terrible.” Sole replied without missing a beat, and tossing the ball back. The boy caught it, stumbling forward a bit before correcting himself. “Everything smells, everything’s dirty, and nobody plays catch with you.” 

“Yeah, that’s what everybody says.” He agreed. “Except that last part. I don’t think anyone plays catch here.” He tossed the ball, but it missed its mark and fell to the ground, rolling to her feet. She picked up, fingers running over the laces. She’d always meant to do this with Shaun… Her Shaun.

“Well, people can get a little busy.” Sole explained, already readying another toss to the boy. “But the important thing is you’re safe.” She tossed the ball to him, but he missed it, scrambling down by the fountain to scoop it up. When he turned back to her, he had a puzzled look on his face. 

“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” He asked with concern. _Oh boy, I’m really bad at this._

“Well, on the surface...” She started nervously, walking up to him. “People aren’t always... Good.” She sat on the bench by the fountain and he sat too, engrossed in her explanation. That made her more nervous. “People don’t have the things you have, they have to fight for things a lot.”

“Aren’t there any good people up there?” He asked, wide eyed. This was one sheltered 10 year old. By his age, she was already stealing snack cakes and swearing like a sailor.

“There are some good people,” She said, thinking back to her days in the Minutemen. “But they have to fight too. For every good person I met up there, I met 10 bad ones.”

“What happened to he bad ones?” He asked earnestly. _Oh boy, I am **really** bad at this._

“They, uh...” She was a little at a loss for words. “They went to jail.” _Nice save._

“Oh good.” He said in relief. “I thought you just killed them.” _This kid is going to give me a heart attack._ “Do you do anything fun up there?”

“Uh...” Sole started, _I drank a lot. I slept around practically. Basically everything I did in college, set to the soundtrack of shotguns._ “We had a bowling alley.”

“A what?” 

“You know a- Well you rolled giant marbles into targets on along a polished surface.” Sole explained, trying to break the game to it’s bare essentials. 

“Could we play that next time?” He asked excitedly. She put a hand on the back of her neck, letting out a breath. _Kid, I don’t think I could survive another outing like this._ She looked over at him, his eyes shining hopefully. She could see the resemblance to toddler Shaun. 

“Sure, I’ll work it out with Advanced Systems..” She promised with a smile. “We can build it from scratch, that way we can call it a learning exercise.” He smiled gleefully, practically jump and down in his seat. She was going to have a lot to answer for in Advanced Systems. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Day 4** _

She’d have to be careful about decrypting that tablet. If they noticed an unauthorized login, she might just get kicked out of this place for good. She looked down at the password system, having bypassed the usual security screens and gone straight to the console. It wasn’t as easy as going to the key log like in prewar terminals, but it wasn’t all that different. 

Scrolling through the console screen her thoughts drifted back to the dream she’d had last night. She had been dancing in a bar, a song had been playing, something achingly familiar. She wasn’t alone either, she was dancing with someone, but the person kept changing. First it had been Nate, glittering with frost, fingers burning hers with his icy touch. Then their touch warmed as the partner changed, someone unfamiliar, shimmers of brass around them. She leaned against them, a comforting warmth from them-Until it vanished. She was alone on the dance floor.

That’s when another hand appeared from the shadows. A wrinkled, mottled hand. She was hesitant, stepping back. That’s when the shadows swarmed with feral creatures, lurching for her- and she woke up. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t remember much of her life on the surface.

The tablets password ended up being _Purity_ , whatever that meant. She was inundated with log upon log of research, Data sets that meant nothing to her, and audio files of recorded notes. Her brain hurt just looking at it. She switched it off and put it back in her lab coat pocket. She could look it over later. Then there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” She called, sitting up on her bed. “I was just writing my memoirs for posterity.” The door slid open to reveal a Courser, a new one. Just as mean though.

“Father requests your presence.” He said, deadpan. 

“Of course, anything for Father.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Sole was finally up to her neck in Gen 1’s and out of witty retorts. Except she was on the wrong side of them. She approached Bunker Hill with the Courser, X4-18. There were a lot of innocents in there. Railroad agents in there. She adjusted her helmet, reassuring her that she was safe. 

No one could see her. As far as they knew, she wasn’t even there… 

Except someone knew. Someone had eyes on her from the moment they relayed in front of the memorial. Some drifter, watching from the settlement walls. He watched her every movement the way she walked, the way she held her laser pistol… Ghosts were walking on hallowed ground, and they were coming for blood. 

Off further away, away from what would be a bloodbath, was a junkie making his way home. His eyes crazed, veins full of psycho, jet, Slasher… Anything he could pump into his system. He tore through anything in his path. His blood stained knife, jagged with chips, an extension of himself and his intentions... 

Further still, in Sanctuary, a man stood alone in an old house, the only stagnant land in a settlement built on regrowth. Untouched on his Generals last orders… 

For a moment, the world was still, holding its breath before the battle.

Then it coughed.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Day 5** _

Sole lay under the scalding water of the shower head, body curled up on the tiled floor. She’d been there for an hour. Her hands pruned, her skin a blistering red, her insides aching. She took a shuddering breath, before switching the water off, but even then she just lay there. The world was spinning around her. The crisp white surfaces, the soft tint of blue cast by the shower glass, all swirling down the silver drain. 

It had been nearly a week since she’d been ripped apart at the Co-Op and appeared here, and 24 hours since she learned her son was dying. 12 hours since he announced her as his successor. 1 hour since she went through the files from Advanced Systems. The dream she’d had of her old life was gone and all the optimism in the world wouldn't bring it back.

She pulled herself off the shower floor, sliding open the glass, the steam spilling out around her. She pulled down the towel on the rack above her, letting it drape upon her. She lay there, collecting herself. The events of Bunker Hill had shook her, but it was the aftershock that had her wishing they had a bar in this damn place.

She had killed RailRoad agents, retained synths, and betrayed every friend she knew. It wasn’t hard. There were many reasons that could justify it. It had certainly earned her the trust of most of the institute. But that wasn’t why she’d done it.

She swallowed down the guilt. She put a hand on the toilet seat, using it to support herself as she rose. Every motion felt laboured, every limb weighed down. She stumbled to her bed, the crisp sheets breaking her fall as she collapsed into them. 

After all that, all the blood shed in battle, she returned. She found Father on top of the C.I.T. ruins, and for a moment she felt almost at peace. Foolishly thinking this was her way back to the life she had dreamed they’d have all those months ago. But he was dying. He was dying and wished to leave everything he had to her. 

More responsibility, more eyes looking to her for answers.

And through it all, she thought she could bear it. She could could take over, make the institute something for good. Reverse the harm it had caused. But as she wandered the facility, she saw things that made her stomach turn. She heard things, things that tore at her insides. And she uncovered things, things that left her as this wreck. 

To fix all that she had done, she would have to let go of everything she was and had ever wanted. The woman she was, was dead. She had died the moment her husband was shot and her son taken. She died again when she came to the Institute, supposedly reborn into the life she always wanted. She would need to embrace those deaths now, become someone who could do what those women could not.

She took a steadying breath, sitting up. She would be a model member of the institute. She would do what needed doing. She would gain allies, turn hearts to her cause. She would burn this place down, one person at a time if she had to. But it would burn.

She slipped off the bed, reaching for her institute uniform, but paused. Was it really the most efficient armor? Perhaps she could improve upon the design, as well as her weapons. Everything needed an upgrade. Including the company she kept.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ma’am.” X6-88 greeted her. He stood stoically by Father’s door. It was his preferred post in the institute, when he wasn't in the field retrieving synths or needed at the SRB. She had begrudgingly worked with him to retrieve a synth when she first arrived. He’d proven useful, and reliable. Unlike X4-18, who had been irritatingly unhelpful. Not to mention rude.

“Good evening, X6.” She greeted back politely. He examined her carefully, noticing the shift in demeanor, and approving of it. “I have have an assignment for you.” 

“What director does this assignment originate?” He inquired. 

“Only myself.” She replied. “I require your aid in completing some missions on the surface.” There was a pause.

“I was under the impression you did not require aid. Especially mine. You made it abundantly clear.” He answered evenly, but with the faintest edge of annoyance. 

“That was an error on my part.” Sole admitted. “It wasn't that I over estimated my own ability, but that I overestimated the other Coursers. You were by far the most reliable, and it was only my ignorance that led to dismissing you.” That was the closest thing to an apology he had ever received. And though he was not swayed by flattery, it didn’t hurt her cause at all. 

“Your explanation was unnecessary.” X6 said, “My protocol does not allow me to leave my duties to the SRB.”

“Do you believe your duty is to protect the institute and it's future?” She queried. 

“My belief is not relevant. That **is** my duty.” He responded, an almost fierce edge to his voice.

“Does that include activities outside of Synth Retention?” She pressed.

“It can, if the situation requires it.”

“Then this is not in any conflict with your duties, the situation very much requires it.”

“Very well, Ma’am. Would you at least enlighten me to the task?”

“Threat elimination.”

They were stopped in the hall on their way to Advanced systems, Sole had been promised improvements on her armor.

“Your presence is requested with Father, Ma’am.” A familiar Courser announced to her, halting her in path through the corridor. She really didn't like X4-18. It seemed the feeling was mutual, as the title at the end seemed a tacked on after thought rather than a sign of respect. 

“Thank you, uh, X3 right? I’ll be right over.” She replied with a polite nod, already heading towards the directors office. The courser bristled at the name, watching her leave with a heated glare she could feel in the back of her head.

“Ma’am, that was X4-18 you addressed.” X6-88 corrected her.

“I knew who it was.” She responded curtly. There was a puzzled silence. Sole glanced at him as she explained. “If you confuse someone's designation, it shows you don’t care to remember their name, you have no strong feelings about them one way or another. It is what pre-war types call a ‘power move’.”

“So you wanted to make a show of dominance to X4-18 to establish authority?” X6 clarified.

“Yes. Also, I hate him.” She added under her breath.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

They all sat around the conference table, X6 hanging back behind Sole at her request. She clasped her hands together on the table, impatient for the meeting to end. Finally, Justin Ayo stood and cleared his throat, a smug smile on his face.

“This morning, reports came in that the Railroad has been wiped out by the Brotherhood of Steel.” He announced. There was a shocked silence, then a slow applause. Words of praise, congratulations. Sole waited to hear more, but Ayo simply sat back down, smug smile still on his face. The other Directors didn’t seem to care, they were too busy patting each other on the back.

_‘Finally, vermin taking care of vermin.’_

_‘One less problem to waste resources on.’_

_‘About time.’_

Sole Was silent, anger boiling up through her. 

“Mother, are you alright?” Father asked, more out of curiosity than concern. She looked up at the others, standing up. 

“You are all idiots.” She spat coldly. The smiles around the room became annoyed frowns. 

“Care to elaborate?” Father pressed. She took a calming breath. 

“You are treating this like a success of some kind.” She replied, keeping her tone even. “You haven't said how many were killed, how many were captured, how many **escaped**!”

“Well, later scavenging of the sight found at least two bodies…” Ayo answered tentatively. 

“Oh my mistake!” Sole laughed. “I forgot the Railroad was comprised of just two people.” There was an uncomfortable silence. She continued darkly. “But while you celebrate, the Brotherhood of Steel advances. An organisation that has had a presence in the Commonwealth for little over a month found the thorn in your side you’ve been trying to remove for nearly forty years. Oh but don’t let that put a damper on your celebration. I’m sure it will take them at least a few more weeks until they reach _you_.” The annoyance on the others faces turned to concern. Ayo was subtly shrinking back in his chair.

“What do you suggest?” Father asked gravely. 

“Place charges on the BOS flagship, then step back and watch the fireworks.” Sole replied. There were somber murmurs of agreement. “If it was possible to broker peace, I would suggest it, they could be a powerful ally, but their views are at such odds with our own, it would be foolish to consider it.” 

“Well if you are volunteering.” Ayo joked. 

“I am.” Sole replied coldly, much to his irritation. 

“If you believe that is wise…” Father agreed solemnly. 

“Wise? No. But necessary.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ma’am, about your outburst to the directors….” X6 started as they were stripping BOS soldiers of their uniforms.They had just found a patrol near C.I.T and had strategically picked them off from the ruins. “Was this another ‘power move’?” 

“Yes. I don’t tolerate fools lightly. Especially not smug ones.” 

“I wouldn’t classify any of the Directors as ‘fools’, but the call for immediate action was… Refreshing.” X6 commented, chastisement turning to reluctant appreciation. Sole ignored the remark and quietly observed the choice of disguises they had at hand. There was a female scribe’s uniform that would fit her, mostly blood free. However, X6 would have to use the power armour as none of the other uniforms would fit him. It was probably for the best, he’d blend in better with Power Armor.

“What’s your best Brotherhood Knight impression?” Sole asked jokingly, looking down at the set of BOS power armor. It was in pretty good condition, despite its previous owner leaking bodily fluids inside it. It was going to be a pain getting the mechanism on the frame to release the occupant. 

“Ad Victoriam, Initiate!” X6 announced suddenly, she jumped, whipping around to face him. His stoic expression didn’t change in the slightest. “Was that a sufficient impersonation?” 

“Not bad,” Sole noted. “But I haven't heard you mention abominations yet.” He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders a bit.

“I’d kill a hundred abominations for Elder Maxson! Ad Victoriam!” He tried again, his voice even taking on some character, in stark contrast to his usual monotone. She nodded I'm approval, holding back a laugh. 

“Nice addition. If we get stopped, it might take them a whole five seconds to figure us out.” She commended him. “Hopefully that's all the time we’ll need to zap on deck and zap back.”

“I think you are fundamentally misunderstanding the limits of the Institute relay system.” X6 observed with concern.

“Plan B is hijacking a Vertibird and managing to fly it up there.” She explained. “How are you with rocking aircraft and heights?” There was a calculated pause.

“I may have been too quick to dismiss your previous suggestion.” He admitted. “My improvisation does not extend to the ability to control aircraft.” The faintest twitch of a smile flashed on his face. She grinned at him.

“Was that… A joke?” She asked curiously, looking over at him. He was silent. Maybe she should list stripping corpses as an institute bonding exercise. She shook her head with a smile and returned to examining the BOS power armor. Sole supposed that if she removed a few pieces from the torso and arm, she could maybe reach in and hit the release. It’d been so long since she’d been in Power Armor she could barely remember how to handle them. Then it would need to be cleaned… She groaned and sat on a crumbled wall. This was going to be harder than she’d thought. 

“Is there something wrong, Ma’am?” X6 inquired glancing down at her while keeping an eye out for other BOS patrols. 

“Just trying to figure out the best way to open this tin can without damaging the important stuff.” She explained, nudging the body with her foot. “And then there's the matter of the viscera leaking all over it… I’d rather you not have to deal with corpse smell while using this thing.”

“Your concern is unnecessary.” He said, eyes still fixed on the horizon, scanning their perimeter. “I know how to make use of the showers. I could ‘deal’ with the smell until we returned.”

“That’s one less thing to worry about I guess…” She sighed. “Now to I just gotta work out the rest.” This all seemed so much easier when she was angry. 

There was a long silence as Sole started to work the Power Armor, tentatively poking around the pieces to look at the frame. X6 scanned their surroundings, ensuring no other patrols were going to interrupt her. Finally she managed to get lucky and found the release on the power armor frame, snatching her fingers back as the frame released its occupant, who Sole could easily pry from the armor. 

“Bingo!” She said excitedly, rubbing her fingertips which got a bit pinched from the opening armor. X6 looked over at her.

“Sounds like you’ve finished step one of thirty, Ma’am.” X6 observed. She rolled her eyes.

“Hey one step is still one step closer than we were a minute ago.” She shot back. He was right though. How was she going to even get them on the deck? She looked down at her Pip-boy. It could take her anywhere she’d been before, but she’d never made a point of visiting the giant death balloon looming over the Commonwealth. Not that she had been invited. 

“Look, Ma’am, no offense, but I think you’ve lost your mind.” X6 noted with worry. She looked back at him and she could see the noticeable flinch in his demeanor. 

It was the first time he’d made any direct remark on her decisions. There had been derisive comments, even something that could be construed as teasing, but nothing like this. Somehow over the course of their assignment, he’d kept letting his filter slip, and she’d kept letting him. But what he had just done was obvious grounds for verbal warning at least, and even termination (if she was spiteful enough). He wouldn’t be the first synth terminated for insubordination. It was her word against his. He was silent as he awaited her response, hopefully only sending him back to the institute for re-education. 

“I understand, from your position, the plan sounds crazy.” She admitted. He was stunned. “But regardless of how we go forward, we will be taking down that over-sized blimp. I had Advanced Systems whip up enough explosives to take out a small settlement, and I don’t know about you, but I want to see them put to good use.” He waited, surely she had some consequence planned for his actions… No punishment for his comment… A faint smile tilted his lips.

“The Brotherhood of Steel has no idea what they’re up against.” He replied, a new found confidence to his voice. “But they’re about to find out.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

They stood by Nordhagen beach in the dead of night, the few settlers that lived there were fast asleep. The moon shone through wispy clouds, illuminating them with a soft silver glow. The water lapped at the shore, washing up the usual scrap, glistening under the starlight. The only other sounds came from Sole tapping at her Pip-boy and X6 nervously pacing the shore, sand shifting beneath his Power Armor. 

“Have you thought about this extensively?” X6 asked, keeping the growing anxiety out of his voice. Sole was fiddling with her Pip-boy, glancing up at the Prydwen every so often. 

“Define ‘extensively’.” She murmured. “Hey, how high do you think that thing is?”

“Extensively meaning you have given this a considerable amount of thought. More so than say, five minutes.” He started. “As for guessing it's height, I lack sufficient data.” 

“Same, but I guess this will have to do.” She mused, clicking a dial on the device before standing up. 

“You are… You're joking… Right?” He asked, fear rising in his voice. She gave a devilish grin as she looked at him.

“Nope.” And with that she slammed a hand on her Pip-boy to quickly activate the relay. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

It required two relays to happen in sequence. One into the institute, another one immediately after to the designated location she’d had to input manually. It was a gamble getting the altitude just right, but working from Nordhagen had helped. 

They materialized in the air, dropping quickly through the empty space. Sole had been ready for this, but still had to cover her mouth to stifle the scream trying to claw its way out of her throat. X6 fell a little quicker due to the added weight of his power armor. She braced herself as soon as she heard the clang of his metal frame hit the forecastle. She was ready to break an ankle on impact, but her fall was broken by two steel arms plucking her out of the air. X6 caught her, arms over the bow of the deck. She clung to his metal frame, staring at the dark abyss below her. She felt her stomach drop, if he hadn't caught her she would have kept falling and falling….

“Ma’am, the noise will attract soldiers to our location.” He said, looking back at the door to the deck. “I urge you to collect yourself.” She nodded, and he lowered her to the deck. She gripped the railing for a moment, fighting the nausea that was rising in her stomach. She didn't have time to lose her lunch. She had jar heads to murder.

“You’re taking this well…” She observed, glancing over at the stoic figure of X6, patiently waiting for her to recover.

“I am trained to adapt to any situation.” He explained stiffly. She looked him over again.

“So you didn't make use of the fluid deposit chamber in your armor?” She asked knowingly. The was a choked pause, interrupted by the iron door to the command deck swinging open. Two soldiers clad in power armor stormed out, gatling guns at the ready. They hesitated when they saw the two of them on the deck.

“What was that commotion?” One demanded, “How’d you two get up here?” Sole approached them before X6 had a chance to try out his impersonation. 

“My apologies, uh, knights. We came up here for uh, privacy…” Sole explained, a blush coming over her. “My, uh, well he was just being an idiot. Said he could jump off the deck and do a cannonball into the river. I had to pull him back onto the deck.” The two soldiers looked at both of them. The story was plausible. She drew closer to them, lowering her voice. “Please don’t tell anyone, he’s already been written up for discharging a weapon on deck. Tried hitting a super mutant all the way on an overpass.” The two looked at each other. 

“We’ll ignore the incident this time. It's lucky for you the Elder is back at the airport. Probably why you tried this stunt.” The first warned. “But next time we see you, you had better be model soldiers.”

“Yes sir!” She answered excitedly.

“Ad Victoriam!” X6 added with gusto. The three of them exchanged looks. 

“He, uh, he hasn't slept for a couple days.” She explained. The other two gave each other wary looks, before retreating back to the command deck. Sole turned back to X6.

“Great addition there X, really sold the cover.” She murmured with a smile.

“Like I said, I am trained to adapt to every situation.” He reiterated with pride, completely oblivious to her sarcasm. 

“How about from here on out, how about we ‘adapt’ that I do all the talking.” She advised. He nodded, though a bit disappointed. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve seen my share of destruction, but I have to admit, that’s impressive.” X6 said with awe. They watched it burn from the safety of a far off beach. It wasn't hard to place the explosives without being noticed. Everyone seemed to be pretty relaxed knowing their ever vigilant leader was elsewhere. It did mean that Sole still had a lot of work to do in dismantling the BOS, but she’d halved her workload by getting rid of that airship. 

“Alright, that’s not going to be recovered anytime soon.” Sole noted, the metal crashing into the ground with explosive force. “Let's head back to the institute, give them a status report. Get a shower. Head back out tomorrow to finish the job.”

“Is that all?” X6 asked suddenly. She looked over at him blankly. “Pardon the outburst Ma’am. But you just took out one of the biggest threats to the institute, you’re acting like it's nothing.” She sighed and looked over at him.

“The threat is hardly neutralised.” She responded tiredly. “Didn't I tell you that our missions together would entail threat elimination? If it's the scale that unnerves you, feel free to remain at the SRB.”

“I just meant… It's going to be enjoyable working with you.” X6 finished, the distant firelight illuminating a thin smile on his face. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

She stood again in the shower. Staring at the silver shower head. She didn't dare blink. Everytime she did, she saw the face of the squire they’d passed on the way to set the charges. It was ripping her apart. What else would she do to cement her position in the institute? Would she murder more children? Become worse than the thing she sought to destroy? 

She turned off the tap, stepping out of the shower a glowing red. Steam rolled off of her as she moved to her bed, pulling along a fresh towel from the rack behind her. 

She had to put it out of her mind. She had to harden her heart to everything. The BOS were worse than the institute. She'd seen the evidence in the way they mercilessly hunted civil ghouls and peaceful synths. They would have been a bigger threat than the institute within a month if they’d been allowed to continue their advancement. It didn't justify the murder of children, but that went without saying. 

Now the only thing left to do would be dismantling this place brick by brick. It wouldn't be hard. The directors were already at odds with one another, there are at least a hundred synths ready to rebel at a moments notice, and soon she would have complete control over the organisation. Within the year the institute would be history. 

Christ, she was going to miss toilet paper.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------


	13. Bowling for Liquid Nutrition Packets

_**Day 6** _

Sole was exhausted; She hadn’t slept at all last night. If it wasn’t dreams about feral creatures swarming her, it was watching the Prydwen burn to the sounds of a baby crying. It wasn’t pleasant. Still, her work wasn’t over, and she couldn’t do it all alone.

She usually tried to limit her visits to the SRB. On the list of all the things about the Institute she loathed, the SRB was responsible for eight of the top ten. From its paranoid director, Ayo, to its insufferable staff. 

Still, if she was going to request X6-88 as a permanent companion, she would need to venture into the lion's den. 

She entered the automatic sliding doors, but hesitated to go further. There were a few other reasons she hated the SRB.

For starters, It was where the retained Synths were held after their recall. She’d seen them after the Battle of Bunker Hill, vacant expressions, still wearing the rags they’d been relayed in. A betrayal of everything the Railroad had stood for…

She shook it off. She had nothing to be afraid of. She headed inside, walking slowly towards the main office. There was a ready room up ahead that the Coursers tended to use to await assignments. X6 should be inside.

She approached it, thankful Ayo wasn't in at the moment. There was a soft rumble of conversation on the other side of the door. If X6 was in there, he wasn't alone.

She opened the auto door and slipped inside the ready room, obscured by a thin grey wall decorated with some tasteful abstract paintings. She quietly waited, hidden, listening in.

“... I will repeat myself. Comments pertaining to the Directors successor will not be engaged.” X6 replied, voice thick with restrained annoyance. 

“Really? No comments at all?” Came the voice of X4-18, another reason she hated the SRB. X4’s voice was taunting, freely breaking any kind of protocol in the privacy of the ready room. “You seemed content enough to engage in discourse before you became her favored. ‘unprepared and without a professional bone in her body’... Those were your ‘comments’, remember?”

“I lacked the sufficient data to make a sound judgement.” X6 admitted, voice still straining to remain civil. She could almost feel his hand itching towards his laser rifle.

“Yes, we are all aware of what ‘data’ you are collecting.” X4 chuckled. There was a gritting silence as X6 controlled his breathing. “You must be an expert in your field by now...”

“... I repeat. Comments pertaining to the Directors successor will not be engaged.” He responded, through clenched teeth. It was hard to imagine him being anything other than stoic and emotionless. It was admittedly one of the reasons she preferred his company.

“Well, joking aside, I think you both would make a perfect pair. After all, you are both lower models punching above your station. A synth that thinks it's a courser and a-” There was a metal clang as X4’s skull made contact with something steel. 

“I will **not** repeat this. _Do Not Comment On the Directors Successor_.” X6 growled. 

The sound of his boots on the ceramic tile warned her of his approach. She reached back and activated the automatic door quickly, the doors slid open and she stepped back a bit, as if just arriving at the ready room. 

“Hey X6, you in here?” She called, trying to sound casual. He emerged from behind the wall, the very definition of calm and collected.

“Present, Ma’am.” He replied simply. “Do you have another assignment?”

“Several, but I need to address Director Ayo about some jurisdiction issues.” She answered carefully, ignoring the sheepish figure of X4 lurking around the corner. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready when you are, Ma’am.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Ayo wasn’t available for redesignating X6’s assignment, but they heard from some of the staff that he would be back shortly. It offered Sole the chance to outfit X6 with more effective ordinance at Advanced Systems. 

The Advanced Systems staff mostly left them alone while Sole tinkered with X6’s institute issue laser rifle. She had to hold back a slew of comments on its design, mostly it's limitations. Instead she made small talk with X6, but with difficulty.

“So, you seem pretty attached to laser firing weapons. Why?” She asked, cleaning the fusion cell connectors where wasteland soil had found its way between the cells.

“I favor accuracy over unstable power.” He explained curtly. “Plasma weapons lack the precision I require. Ballistic weapons can be equally unreliable.” She was tempted to blow out some of the dust around the connectors with a quick breath, but one fleck of saliva could short all her handiwork.

“Hey, could you ask around for some compressed air, I need to clean this bit out.” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. He nodded before leaving. She examined the rest of the weapon, there were a couple ways she could improve it… though her idea of improvements and X6’s differed. She’d usually over charge it, add connectors to increase ammo capacity, and modify it to take plasma cartridges… But X6 liked to hit the thing he’s aimed at. So she would have to compromise and focus on improving his range and accuracy. She could probably add another 50 yards to his shot, and with the right scope… 

“If you spend anymore time here, Li will just toss a A.S.coat on you and sentence you to data entry.” A voice said beside her, cigarette smoke drifting nearby. She looked up from her work to see Dr.Carrington. 

“I think she’s more likely to ask me to be the target in the firing range.” Sole joked, putting the rifle down. The man chuckled, nodding. “How about you? You don’t exactly scream ‘employee of the month’.” His smile disappeared.

“I am completely dedicated to the Institute and my research I-” He started to hiss, but she cut him off.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” She reassured him as he snuffed out his cigarette. “You just remind me of someone...” He turned to get back to his work. “Stanly misses you.” He froze, he nearly turned back to see her, but shook it off and fled deeper into the labs. She shrugged and went back to the rifle. 

She was about to make sneaky modification to the receiver, but she was interrupted when a can of compressed air was set upon the workbench. She looked up, X6 was looking over her work.

“Will that still be safe to fire when you’re done?” He asked skeptically. She smirked, taking the can and spraying in the gaps between the components, trying to avoid freezing her fingers off in the process. Dirt and debris shot out onto the workbench, it was satisfying to see. Sand and grit were always jamming her weapons. 

“It’ll be safe for everyone you’re not pointing it at.” Sole assured him. His jaw set into a concerned frown. “You can try it out at the firing range if you don't believe me. If it explodes here, at least there are Doctors to patch you up.” 

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.” He muttered so only she could hear. She assembled the rest of the rifle with practiced hands, recalling the many hours she’d spent in Sanctuary modifying the shitty pipe weapons she’d pry off raiders.

“I used to do this all the time on the surface, I like to think I’m pretty decent at it.” She said with a smile, not taking her eyes off the rifle as she slotted in a few fusion cells and felt it come to life. “I used to have this shotgun… I could clear out whole Supermutants nests out with it… Until it nearly busted outside Goodneighbor at the worst possible time. I don’t like talking about it... I’d kill to get that damned thing back…” She finished assembling it and handed it over to X6. It was a touch heavier than before, but the weight felt balanced in his hands, and it felt easier to handle. He peered through the scope, which had a toggle for night vision. He let out a low whistle of astoundment.

“Solid upgrade, I like it.” He admitted, already making his way to the firing range. She smiled, clearing up the workbench of all the spare parts and pieces she’d had spare. A staff member made a comment about leaving it for a Gen 3 to clean up, but Sole pretended as though she didn't hear them. She wondered what the synth Shaun was doing today, maybe she could schedule their next interaction while she was here. The kid probably got lonely. 

She looked back at the firing range, X6 was busy firing his newly modified rifle, mostly to get used to the lack of recoil on it. She figured the slight kick of the rifle might throw off his shots so she made some adjustments. She waited for him outside of the glassed in range, watching him easily adjust to the new firing style. It was a shame he couldn't properly test the distance on it. After the ammo was spent he emerged, gripping the weapon protectively. He looked down at her.

“Feels deadlier, more efficient. Nice piece of craftsmanship, Ma’am.” X6 commended her. “You might even teach the engineers a thing or two…” He murmured the last part, wary of the advanced systems staff around him. She chuckled under her breath, she doubted they’d be open to any helpful tips.

“Well, Ayo should be in now. Perhaps You’ll have a chance to test it out.” She smiled, glowing a bit from the high praise. 

“The sooner the better.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

The price for X6’s reassignment was steep. Well, steep for Sole anyway. She could borrow X6 for missions, but only if some of those missions involved running errands for the SRB. 

Their first stop was collecting some reports from a field agent in Diamond city. As if things couldn't get better. 

Sole was mostly silent as they finished their job. She wore a gas mask and covered up with wasteland armor, anything to keep from being recognised. The agent was insufferable as well, she let X6 do all the talking, which wasn't much, while she slunk off to grab some noodles in the market. 

It was just as well. X6 had to investigate some other sources of information in the city, who knew where the next lead to a runner would be. And there was one other errand he needed to complete before they could relay back…

He could feel the relief radiating off her when they were finally ready to relay back outside the city. It was unnerving to see her this way. 

“Ma’am, could I request a detour?” He asked as she started to input the coordinates for relay. She looked up in surprise. “I have yet to properly test your work in a combat situation.” She sighed.

“X6, it's just us. You can say you want to shoot things.” She said with a tired, thin smile. “So what were you thinking of for target practice?”

“I thought we could light up some Super mutants nearby.” He replied, more relaxed. “Nothing like a big, green target to break in a new modification.” She shrugged. 

“Seems as good as anything. Better than civilians.” She noted. She started towards the nearest Super Mutant Nest, but X6 cleared his throat. She turned around, raising an eyebrow at him. “Something wrong, 6?”

“No, but surely you don't intend to kill them with ‘that’.” He motioned to her laser pistol. It wasn't ideal, but she hadn't had time to improve it. She rolled her eyes.

“The guy gets a big gun and it goes to his head.” She mused in annoyance. A faint smirk lit upon his lips. 

“No offense intended, Ma’am, but perhaps you would like some more appropriate ordinance?” He asked, and from his courser jacket he produced something that made her breath catch in her throat.

“Is that… A Combat Shotgun?” She gasped, looking at the long barreled weapon, taking it gingerly from X6’s hands. “How the hell were you hiding this in your coat?” 

“It has pockets.” He replied simply. She didn't care, she was too busy admiring the firepower in her hands.

“Man, I hope this isn't your way of brown- nosing your way to some kind of promotion.” She chuckled, loading in a few shells. 

“No Ma’am, I’m not that subtle.” He answered with a genuine smile.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

They were waist deep in gore bags and assorted viscera. It was standard super mutant decor, with the addition of Diamond City Security Uniforms strewn throughout the building. It was uncomfortably close to the great green jewel, Security would sleep easier knowing their patrols outside the city would be a little safer. 

“Would it kill them to bathe?” X6 muttered as they stepped over shattered femurs. “We could look into weaponizing this odour.” She stifled a laugh, mindful of the noise. They still had a few greenbacks to kill before this place was secure. 

“I’m sure we could get a few people in Bioscience to look into it…” She mused, treading carefully over a gore bag brimming with organs. She held back a gag.

“Agreed, it might make a change for them to do something useful for once.” X6 affirmed. Sole covered her mouth to muffle a laugh. “That was… Not a joke.” 

“It's funny because it's true, 6. Humor is subjective.” Sole explained, rolling her eyes. “What sound?” A deep, mutant-esque, voice asked from the next room over. Sole and X6 hid back behind the wall, watching the doorway. Heavy footsteps clamored over debris and crunched bones. 

Sole raised her shotgun just as a green face peered out from the doorway. It disappeared in an explosion of bone fragments, chunks of brain, and red mist. This alerted his four friends to their location.

Instead of politely strolling through their choke point like good abominations of nature, they had the audacity to throw a grenade through the doorway. Sole dove out of the blast range, but X6 dove towards it. She turned back in time to see him scoop up the live grenade and hurl it back out the door.

“Catch!” He bellowed, before jumping behind the door frame. The explosion sent shock waves all the way to Sole’s cover, if X6 hadn't thrown it, she would likely be short a couple hands and a nose. If she’d been lucky. 

X6 was down, the blast had torn apart the doorway and sent him sprawling into the corner. The Super mutants had fared slightly better, and rage pushed them through their injuries. She could already hear the wind up of a mini gun. She had to act fast.

She moved through the wrecked hall quickly, drawing their attention, and their fire. She ducked in to the doorway of a boarded up room, giving her just enough cover to avoid the Bullets ripping towards her if she took a deep breath in. 

The second they stopped she darted towards the Mutants, clad in leather armor and metal colanders, and fired a round of shells into the one with the minigun, turning his intestines into decorative paper chains. He fell, leaving his three friends, two of which were already heading towards her with matching super sledges. The third was already picking up the fallen’s minigun. Shit. 

She fell back down the hall, stumbling over herself to escape while reaching into her pockets for something she’d been saving for a rainy day. Their roars echoed behind her, accompanied by the sound of Bullets pitting what was left of the hall with lead.

As soon as her foot hit the floor on the other side of the doorway, she tossed back a glowing green cylinder, pulsing with energy. Her only plasma grenade.

She grabbed an overturned table and dragged it just over X6 and her in the corner. The plasma grenade detonated, vaporizing the two mutants after her. The blast barely hit the table they were taking cover behind, but the sound was still ringing in Sole’s ears. She almost didn't hear the heavy footsteps of the last super mutant, trudging up the hall, mini gun in hand. She couldn't catch a break.

Sole loaded some shells into her rifle quickly, she needed to make these ones count. First thing through the doorway was the barrel of the minigun, already winding up. She raised her shotgun where his head should pop through, and unloaded every shell the second they came into view.

The mutant fell, their weapon winding down with a disappointed whir. She let her arms drop to the ground, catching her breath, and looking back over at the fallen Courser. He had a gash on his head, probably where the blast had sent him against a wall or into flying debris.

Otherwise he seemed fine… But his sunglasses were cracked. They’d have to be repaired… Or maybe replaced. She swiped the broken shades from his face and pocketed them into her jacket. A little keepsake from the excursion.

He grunted as he started to come to, immediately trying to haul himself up. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, resting him back against the wall.

“Threats eliminated, just rest up here.” She soothed. “I got a spare stimpak if you need it.” 

“Not necessary… I just need… A moment…” He managed, rubbing his skull. Then he froze as his hands went to his face, feeling the absence of his glasses. “Ah.” He was silent for a moment, eyes still closed against the pain. Sole felt a twinge of guilt.

“They pretty much got blasted off your face.” She lied, “I don't know if you want to wonder glue the pieces back together or…” He opened his eyes and looked over at her with a cold glare. The venom felt even more intense now she could actually see his eyes. His ice blue eyes. She coughed and looked away, face reddening. 

“I will request a replacement when we return.” He said begrudgingly. 

“You need them that bad?” She asked, a little concerned, a little disappointed, and now very guilty. 

“My eyes are not adjusted to the sunlight.” He explained quietly. “They lack the filter most Courser agents have built in. Thus the sunglasses are necessary for functioning on the surface.” There was a silence between them, the obvious question hanging in the air. He took a breath.

“I suppose I should explain now, before someone else does.” He started, sitting up a bit more, eyes still closed. “I… I wasn't made to be a Courser.” He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “I was a regular Gen 3 synth, probably meant to infiltrate somewhere or another. But when it came to combat training I became someone else. I was hitting targets the other synths struggled to even see, and breaking fitness records the researchers didn't even think we're possible.” There was a touch of smugness to his voice now. “Normally, I would have been marked above average in testing and sent out into the Commonwealth to fulfill my role, but Father intervened.” A fond smile crossed his expression. “He insisted I be put into Courser training, to see how well I stand up against the others. He said I was a testament to the Institutes ideals…” He shook his head, as if feeling undeserving of the praise. “It wasn't easy, the other Coursers thought it was a joke. They weren't laughing when I started getting runners they couldn't.” 

“Bet it felt good wiping X4’s smirk off his face.” She noted. 

“Actually…” He started with a sigh. “He was sort of my sponsor for the training.” 

“He- what?” She asked in surprise. He nodded, he could understand the shock.

“I looked up to him, he was one of the most effective Coursers on record. I felt honored he would allow me on missions with him.” He spat out his words bitterly. “Turns out, he only kept me on for as long as the hero worship lasted. After I started to surpass him in skill, the partnership turned sour fast.” He let out a tired breath. 

“Well that’s one problem we won't have.” She chuckled. 

“Pardon?” He asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“We started this partnership with whatever the opposite of ‘hero worship’ is.” She explained with a smirk.

“Quiet skepticism? Casual annoyance? Polite disdain?” He asked.

“Oh I just hated you.” She laughed, giving him a playful shove. He hid a smirk that said he’d felt the same. She hauled herself up. “If you can stand, we should relay back to the institute. I’m starting to get too comfortable surrounded by other people's organs.” 

“Better than your own.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

She headed to Advanced Systems immediately, leaving X6 to recover. She had some big plans with synth Shaun-Kid Shaun?Kid Synth… God, she didn’t know what to call him. But, she’d scheduled an interaction with him, and they were going to figure out how to make a bowling alley. Maybe just a lane. 

When she arrived, Shaun (it was easier to just call him that, besides, her son went by Father now. Christ, this was getting weird) was waiting for her. He was excited, chattering to the researcher next to him, who pretended to be interested in what he was saying. 

“Hey kid, ready to go?” She asked, coming up to him. He bolted up to her.

“I told them we were going to go bowling and they didn’t believe me!” He exclaimed. She knelt down to his height. 

“Well, we got to build it first, how are you with engineering?” She asked seriously. He looked nervous.

“I mean, I don’t know much..” He admitted.

“Perfect, we can learn together!” She smiled, much to his and the researchers surprise. 

“Pray tell, how do you intend to do that?” A familiar voice of annoyance asked. Dr. Carrington walked towards them, cigarette in hand. 

“I had a friend, he said 90% of engineering was just well placed duct tape.” Sole replied with a shrug. Dr. Carrington rubbed his forehead with a free hand. 

“Did Madison give you clearance for this?” He asked in exasperation. 

“Not directly,” Sole admitted. “But it’s a valuable educational exercise for the boy.” Shaun nodded eagerly. Dr. Carrington ground his cigarette into a crystal ashtray. The researcher beside Shaun looked as though he was ready to whisk the boy backa way, but The doctor waved him off. 

“I’ll supervise.” He replied reluctantly. “But we’ll have to keep out of the staff’s way.” Sole smiled, nodding. 

“Old service tunnels it is then.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m sure Dr.Li didn’t have this in mind for the boy’s enrichment.” Dr. Carrington said hesitantly as Sole and Shaun hauled a variety of parts and knick-knacks for their ersatz bowling alley. 

“She’s too busy working with the heads of the Institute to worry about us.” Sole explained, picking up a spot welder on their way out of the labs.

“Shouldn’t you be doing that as well?” Dr. Carrington pointed out.

“You kidding? I got the most important job of any of them.” She smiled, “This bowling alley won’t build itself, right kid?”

“It’s going to be the coolest.” He agreed. Dr. Carrington went to his pockets, taking out a cigarette to cope.

The old service tunnels were mostly off limits, but Father _had_ said she was welcome anywhere in the Institute. They put down the parts and Sole got out a two clipboards with pen and paper. 

“First, we got to make a blueprint.” She said seriously, handing Shaun a clipboard. “That means we draw a picture of how it’s meant to look when it’s done.” 

“That isn’t-” Dr. Carrington started, but Sole continued.

“I brought a pre-war magazine from the archives to give you an idea.” She took out a plastic covered folder with an ancient magazine inside. On the cover was an article with a bowling alley on it, rendered with the usual soft pastels everything was painted in back then. She stared for a minute at the soft blue of one bowlers dress, and pinks that highlighted the scene. Shaun grabbed it excitedly, creasing the plastic in his haste. Sole cringed at the damage, but played it off. He was just a kid after all. 

“So, do the pins explode?” He asked, noticing the animate effects over the pins as a ball crashed into them. She smiled and shook her head.

“No, but if we can get this working, we can make them explode.” She apologized.

“No, no, no exploding anything.” Dr. Carrington vetoed. Shaun sunk with a little disappointment. 

“Right, we gotta get this working first.” Sole agreed, starting to sketch out a design on her clipboard. Shaun noticed and copied her, but his lines were a lot slower, more deliberate. “So the main part of this is we need to make a ball return and pin set.” She sketched out a sort of haphazard design and showed to Shaun and Dr. Carrington. Shaun squinted, a little confused, the doctor was quiet for a moment, before bursting out with a laugh. 

“What on earth- How would you even… Here let me.” The doctor took the clipboard and turned over the paper, quickly sketching a detailed design. He turned it back to us, it actually looked feasible. Shaun was quiet, looking over it, then went back to his clipboard, drawing out something with determination. Finally he turned to to them. 

“That. That, actually is pretty good.” Dr. Carrington mused, somewhat amazed. He took the paper and looked at it more closely. Sole looked it over as well. It wasn’t a child's scribble, it was almost verbatim what the one in the magazine looked like, with the added features of Dr. Carrington’s design. She let out a low whistle.

“Kid,” she said quietly, Shaun was squirming under her gaze, not sure if he was in trouble. “You… Are amazing!” She scooped him up and hugged him, she had never felt more proud. She put him down, smiling. “This is going to be the best bowling alley ever! I bet even Father would try it out!” Dr. Carrington coughed. She looked over at him.

“It is impressive,” He admitted. “But we can’t be away from the lab for much longer. It’s nearly evening.” Shaun looked crestfallen. Dr. Carrington was hesitant, before kneeling down to his height, his knees complaining as he did so. “Shaun, how about we work on this together? We could start tomorrow, i’ll teach you a few fundamentals of engineering.” The boys face lit up, and before either of them knew what was happening, Shaun hugged the doctor tightly. There was a surprised gasp, but the doctor politely patted him on the back, before he stood up again. 

“C’mon kid,” Sole said with a smile, “Let’s get you home.” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

_**Meanwhile, Six hundred feet above them…** _

Smoke hung heavy in the air, mixing with the heavy stench of decay, sweat, and the bodily fluids. It felt hot, heavy, and suffocating all at once, drifting through the doorway of his office, his den of debauchery where he stewed in every bad decision he ever made. 

Moans and gasps could be heard coming from the upstairs, accompanied by the hiss of a jet canister. The floorboards squeaked and shook in protest throughout the State House until finally it fell silent with a final thrust from above, followed by exhausted gasps. The building was quiet and calm. An eerie uncomfortable stillness filled the musky air. 

Then there were tentative, tired steps down the Statehouse stairs. A procession of half dressed drifters made their way down the stairs. No judgement followed them, after all, nobody had any dignity in Goodneighbor. 

Hancock lay naked on the hardwood floor, surrounded by empty jet canisters, used Fury dispensers, and a half empty bottle of Daytripper. Scattered through it like confetti were the shredded remains of his couch, the snowy innards lying in piles around the room and drifting out the doorway. The rest of the detritus was unrecognizable, maybe new chems, maybe old. All potent enough to leave him in a paralytic state staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t even bring the jet in his hands to his lips. Time was stretching forward, he could see the dust motes in the air fall in slow motion, leaving a blurred trail behind them. 

He could feel the world turning below him, and he was stuck to it, as if gravity was trying to stop him from getting up and getting his shit together. That suited him just fine. He was far from over this. He kept his eyes open, stinging against the smokey air. He had to. If he dared close them for even a moment he saw her. Her face, the curves of her body against his, the devilish smile she gave him… He wanted to the claw images from his brain, burn them so he never had to think of her again. 

But he couldn’t even move his little finger, much less rip his brain out through his eyes. Finally he gave out, his eyelids shutting like steel traps over his tired eyes. In the darkness, he could trace her outline moving through the shadow. Lines dancing in the night, smile shimmering like the stars…

The tears stung his skin, like acid seeping from his eyes and burning down his face. The outlines faded away, and he could feel his heart ache with their absence. 

He didn’t remember getting to Good Neighbor. Fahrenheit said he’d just stumbled through the front doors of the State house and collapsed. He was barely alive, it took Amari a miracle to fix him up. And he spent the next few weeks undoing all her good work. 

The last thing he remembered before waking up was finding a chem stash in an abandoned house and shooting up with enough psycho to kill a super mutant. 

He managed to clench his fist, the strength returning to his body. Soon he would be able to take another hit of whatever he wanted. Maybe it would finally do the job…

“Wouldn’t it be more expedient if I just shot you.” A voice asked from the doorway, as if reading his mind. He mumbled something, lips numb and tingling, too weak to speak without slurring. “It would save us all a lot of time and caps.” Fahrenheit leaned against the doorway, cigarette in hand. “Or I could just throw you to the jackals baying at your door, eager to take the King’s castle.” She took a drag, face a mask of her usual stern frown. Hancock opened his eyes, body shaking as he used every last ounce of willpower to prop himself up on his elbows, glaring at her. “You can give me the evil eye all you want, but I’m not the one you should worry about.”

He took breaths to steady himself, resting himself against what was left of his desk, split in half and splintered. “Marowski’s been circling like a vulture for days, some of the raider groups are regrouping outside of town, and the Supermutants are back.” She listed the threats off with a gesture of her cigarette, the smoke leaving tallies in the air. “And to top it all off, the Railroad’s gone silent. So there won’t be any back up if the institute comes for Amari.” Hancock nearly choked. 

“The what went what?” He coughed out in shock, he felt the numbness drain, replaced with dread. Fahrenheit gave him a pitying look. 

“I assumed that’s why you were like this.” She replied. “The Railroad was raided by the Brotherhood, they took out the Railroad a week ago. Not long before you made it to town.” He was stunned. How much time had he lost between that moment and and the moment he’d watched her run away…

“Those bastards…” He muttered. Fahrenheit hid a smirk behind her cigarette. “What’s so damn funny then?” 

“Someone already beat you to revenge. The big bad brotherhood went down in flames not long after you got here. What, did you think all that celebrating in the street was for _you_?” It hadn’t been a huge stretch to think it had been. The prodigal mayor returns and the first thing he hears when he wakes up are cheers in the street. Guess he was a chump for thinking the people actually gave a rats ass about him. 

“Who took on the man then?” He rasped, his knuckles rubbing away the beginning of withdrawal headache. 

“Who else? The Institute.” She replied matter-of-factly. “Or at least, that’s the intel. It’s certainly not going to be the Minutemen without a General.” It took a moment to register.

“Without a what now?” He asked coldly. His eyes locked onto Fahrenheit. She took another drag and looked away. She wasn’t sure how to say the next words. She had hoped he already knew. It had been a blow to even her when she got the report from her contact in the Railroad. It would _devastate_ him. “Care to finish your thought, Fahrenheit?” His teeth were clenched, his weakened state the only thing keeping him from demanding or even threatening the information out of her. She took a breath.

“About two weeks ago, in an attempt to infiltrate the Institute, the General of the Minutemen, was killed in a mishap with a teleportation device.” She answered evenly. The breath was knocked out of him. He felt everything grow heavy and dark. She was… Gone. The tears came suddenly and violently. Flooding coal black eyes, running down the paths made by his ghoulified skin. A roar escaped his throat as he beat a fist into the floorboards, feeling the shock of impact reverberate up his arm. The world spiraled for that moment, spinning away from him as grief gripped every fiber of his being and ripped it apart. 

Finally Hancock got his breath back, hauling himself off the floor, fighting through the aches in his body, screaming out for one more hit. Not this time. He’d spent long enough giving in. Fahrenheit looked on in silence. Things were about to change, she could feel it in the smoky haze that passed for air.

“Far, find my coat, my hat, and my knife. It’s about time the Mayor returned to his post.” He muttered with dark determination. “Going to take the fight straight to those Institute bastards,” Then muttered under his breath, “And then I’ll take one last trip...” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, already at 60,000 words. Thank you guys for sticking with this, got more coming today, but I'm going to have to give it another look over. My 'editor' is not nearly as thorough as I would like.


	14. Wearing the Face of Two Dead Women

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

_**Day 7** _

_Oh god, not this one again._ Sole thought, surrounded by shadow, ethereal music playing in the background. Of all the nightmares she had, this was her least favorite. She pressed herself against a wall, the shadows closing in. _Wakeup Wakeup…_ She urged herself, but she was stuck. Dread filled her, soon creatures would cover her with their rotting limbs, until she woke in a cold sweat… Except it didn’t happen this time.

A single hand came out of the shadows. It was mottled, pitted with damage, lined with track marks… She leaned forward, and extended her own hand, hesitantly. Their hands met, and the shadows dissipated. Before her was… 

_”Hancock…”_ She choked out with happiness- but the words jolted her out of sleep. Her eyes opened to the dark room, the words on her lips. Her heart seemed to writhe in her chest, as if it remembered something she didn’t. That thing… A ghoul in a red coat… Hancock?

He was someone.. But she couldn’t seem to dredge up any memory of him. Nothing, not even a passing thought… Was he just a figment of her imagination? She closed her eyes again, maybe it would come back to her in the morning. 

Tomorrow, was going to be a fun day. Father had asked her to find the remnants of the RailRoad. That meant combing through the old HQ and pretending she’d never been before. And more to the point, pretending not to find anything. She may have betrayed them, but it was better to keep what little was left alive. She’d need help after the Institute burned. 

She could already feel sleep start to take her. Soon she’d be swept back to her dreams. Maybe the Ghoul had something to do with the Railroad… No, that was stupid. She’d remember that… But there was someone else in the Railroad who might know. Somebody who dug into memories for a living… She could pay her a visit after her errands tomorrow.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The air of the catacombs was heavy with mold and damp. Sole and X6 stepped carefully over the feral corpses, kicking them to be sure. The walk from the church to HQ had never seemed longer. 

“Ma’am, what should we be looking for?” X6 inquired, laser rifle at the ready in case one of the corpses sprung to life.

“The Brotherhood probably left behind more than they thought, we should be looking for something that will lead us to the Railroads remnants.” Sole explained, eyeing the cracked tombs on either side. 

At the end of the hall where the HQ entrance once was, now lay piles of blown up brick and mortar. _Really? They couldn’t take the two minutes to spell **Railroad?**_

They stepped over the rubble and were met with an eerie sight. The HQ was empty, save for upturned desks, scattered papers, and a lot of dried blood. The bodies had been removed, whether by the Brotherhood for study, or the Railroad for burial. Somehow the former seemed more likely. 

“We need to look for symbols on the walls written in chalk.” Sole briefed, “Call me over if you find anything suspicious.” He nodded and they split up, combing over the dilapidated setting.

Sole looked wistfully at the smashed terminal. Most likely done by an agent to stop the Brotherhood finding out anything. And also to prevent any nosy institute members from figuring out their next move. She looked under desks, and examined the brick walls carefully. She ran her fingers over the rough surface of the baked clay, nose nearly pressed to the mortar, until it ended and came up on the dark green chalkboard. She hesitated looking up at the names, somehow preserved amongst the chaos. 

The last name made her heart heavy. ~~Charmer~~. Of course it would be crossed out. Agent Charmer died the moment she stepped onto the Railroad teleport. Who ever Sole was now, was a stranger to both her former selves. 

“Hey over here!” X6 called, jolting her from her thoughts. She came over, shoes treading over crumbling cement. X6 was kneeling near the shooting range, a small symbol made of six lines radiating from a large X. She gave a short sigh. 

“Sign for danger. Pretty standard, but you’re in the right direction.” She explained. X6 nodded, examining it further. 

“My mistake, it caught my eye because…” He started, but his voice trailed off into a mumble. Sole waited patiently for the explanation. He coughed. “The young synth, S9-23, had a phase in which his programming was stuck obsessing over the pre-war concept of ‘pirates’.” X6 looked visibly uncomfortable explaining. Whether it was because he was mentioning the ‘child’, or because the subject matter was ridiculously childish. 

“Some researchers conspired to make a ‘treasure map’ for him. Father had me under orders to accompany him in his ‘treasure hunt’. The X brings back… Uncomfortable memories…” X6 shuddered. Sole examined the sign again. The X did seem a little bigger than usual, but she’d put that down to panic. Perhaps though… She looked at the surrounding wall. There was a seam of mortar where the brick was broken above it, and below it… Huh, was that splash of green paint always there? It looked as though someone had hastily splashed paint on the ground. She’d figured it was just more mess from the aftermath… Sole sat back on the ground, staring at it. 

“Do you have an idea, Ma’am?” X6 asked, thankful she seemed to be ignoring his escapades as a pirate.

“Yeah, but I’m trying to figure out if they made it this easy for a reason…” She mused. “That broken bit looks like the river, and the green is likely Diamond city, so logically, the X can only be one place. But why there?” She murmured to herself under her breath. She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. Before opening one eye and glancing at X6 with a smirk.

“So you were saying about your time as an outlaw of the sea?” She asked her smile widening at his discomfort. 

“It isn’t really important at the moment.” He tried, avoiding any and all eye contact from behind his shades. 

“Oh, but it might give me another insight into our problem.” She insisted, trying not to giggle. He grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“There isn’t much to tell.” He began reluctantly. “The researchers let him discover an old newspaper, repurposed into a map of the labs. S9 followed it, he found a pre-war comic book. End of story.” Then he added. “I resisted suggestions I should wear an eye patch for the endeavor.” At this Sole burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the crypt. 

“That would have been glorious!” She exclaimed. His face darkened with a furious blush. “Oh come on, I bet you made him really happy.” He was silent. “What’s up?”

“Permission to speak freely?” He asked quietly. Sole looked up now, smile dropping. 

“Out here, X6, you never need to ask that.” She replied seriously. He was hesitant about continuing, but she patted a spot on the floor, signalling he sit beside her. He did so, but was reluctant to get his coat covered in dust. He stared at the wall before them and continued.

“The charade felt, wrong.” His voice was low, as if wary of invisible eavesdroppers. “Synths are meant to be tools, used by the institute. Technology designed for a clear and functional purpose. They created S9 because… I can’t even fathom an end to that sentence.” He sounded frustrated now. “S9 doesn’t even know… He thinks he’s like any other child. Albeit one mostly confined to labs and allowed to live at least partially outside the institute.” Sole recalled seeing the memory of Kellogg and the synth Shaun. It made her blood boil just thinking about it, so she took a breath and pushed it far from her mind. 

“I can imagine that would be upsetting.” Sole said carefully. “Having to take care of something unaware of its true nature.” He was silent, words dying on his tongue. Finally he was able to choke out a response.

“I… It.. Yes.” He managed. “Speaking to... S9 always felt like lying. But I was under explicit orders.” The hitch in his voice before the child's name told Sole all she needed to know. He wasn’t just speaking about S9.

“Do you hate S9?” She asked quietly. He seemed unnerved by the question. “Do you hate that you are both the same, but the researchers treat him like a human?” There was a heavy silence as X6 contemplated the question. Sole drew her knees up to her chest, bracing for whatever answer he gave.

“At first, yes.” He answered honestly, his tone bitter. “I hated him, I thought he was made out of vanity and nostalgia. At worst I thought S9 should be terminated, at best I simply pitied it.” She rested her head against her knees, forehead pressing against her helmet. It was the answer she had expected. “But I’ve come to understand Father’s decision to create S9 better now.” She looked up in surprise. His tone was softer now. “Father created S9 for you.”

“To keep me company when he died… Yeah, great belated-mother's day gift.” Sole noted coldly.

“It was for more than that.” X6 scolded gently. “S9 was made with Father’s earliest memories, his childhood mannerisms, everything that made him who he was as a child.” 

“How is that even possible?” She asked with quiet horror.

“Neuroscience is nearly a perfect science in the institute now.” He replied with a shrug. “They poked around in his head and recorded his memories, and then extrapolated the data from them. It took them a couple tries, but the end result speaks for itself.” She bit her lip, gripping her legs to her chest tightly. X6 shook his head, oblivious to her horror. “But that’s not the point. The point was, S9 is in every way but physical, your son. He may be a synth, but he was meant to feel as real as possible.” 

“So I just lie to a child for the rest of my life?” She asked bitterly, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to breakdown in front of X6. Anyone but X6.

“That is up to you.” He said simply. “But I am convinced of two facts since working with you.” He looked straight at her now as he spoke. “The first is that, synth or no, he is your son. The second is that no matter what decision you make, it will hold no bearing over your effectiveness as a Director. You will uphold Father’s legacy admirably regardless.” 

“That… That means a lot coming from you, 6. Thanks…” She managed, coughing to clear her throat and cover the cracks in her voice. 

“Don’t mention it, Ma’am.” He dismissed, picking himself off the dusty floor. “We had better relay back to the Institute, I have been ignoring an incoming message from director Ayo for several minutes now, and the man does not understand the virtue of patience.” She gave a choked laugh and hauled herself up as well, dusting herself off. 

“Back into the fray then.” She said with a smile. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

Sole hated College Square. It was a snipers wet dream, riddled with feral ghouls, and to top it off it was a stone’s throw from a former BOS base. She passed through it once before, and the experience was enough to mark it as a no go area for the rest of her life. 

So of course Ayo’s very important message for X6 was that there was a reliable tip that an escaped synth was hiding out here. 

X6 had taken point, quietly dispatching the ghouls around the square, while she looked out for other threats. The BOS had been there for a month, and even they couldn’t seem to eliminate all the ferals. What was even the point of them? 

The wind seemed to rake over a symphony of tin cans in all directions, making it impossible to listen out for anything near them; there could have been a small army of Deathclaws coming up behind them and she’d be none the wiser. 

“Perimeter clear, Ma’am.” X6 assured her under his breath. She looked around for anything that resembled the hunched figure of a feral, or the ferocity of a deathclaw army; finding it seemingly clear of both.

“Great, let’s do this and get out of here.” Sole said through gritted teeth. X6 nodded, maybe sharing some of her unease. 

Unless Ayo failed to mention that the escaped synth was an experimental prototype in a project to create the most disgusting feral ghoul in existence, then it wasn't here. Sole looked over at X6, laser rifle at the ready for anymore sleeping ghouls that felt like waking up underfoot. His left eyebrow twitched, betraying how irritated he was with the mission, and possibly Ayo. Maybe after this she’d let him fire a fat man at a raider camp to cheer him up.

Then a radio lit to life, Magnolia’s sultry voice crackled across the square from somewhere…

__

_I see you lookin' 'round the corner_

__

_Come on inside and pull up a chair_

__

_No need to feel like a stranger_

__

_Cause we're all a little strange in here._

“It’s coming from one of the-” X6 started, but more radios sprung to life in tandem. Echoing each other all around the square, waking the rotting residents of the surrounding area. 

__

_Have you got a history that needs erasing?_

__

_Did you come in just for the beer and cigarettes?_

__

_A broken down dream you're tired of chasing_

__

_Oh, well I'm just the girl to make you forget._

Someone was messing with them. Not that they had time to worry about that. The music started crackling to life from the Cambridge station intercom, meaning soon they’d have to deal with whatever was down there. 

__

_So we're glad you dropped by_

__

_Come in and loosen up your tie_

__

_Have a drink or maybe just one more_

__

_But if you're searchin' for something to bring you comfort_

__

_Oh well, I'm the one you're lookin' for._

X6 was undoubtedly annoyed at the trap they’d walked into, but was delighted to be shooting at something again. He tore through waves of animate corpses with practiced ease, while Sole took out the onslaught behind him with her lovely new Combat Shotgun. Back to back, they took out every single feral. As the last on fell, they stood there catching their breath, Sole leaning against X6, tiredly reloading her shotgun. Not many shells left.

__

_Now is your motor running close to empty?_

__

_Or are you runnin' from yourself?_

__

_You're thirsty for a brand new kind of pleasure?_

__

_Or are you hungry to be somebody else?_

That’s when the glow of radiation started to emerge from the station. A glowing ghoul drawn by the music and fire fight lurched from the subway steps towards them. It was too far away for her shotgun, and X6 had to reload his rifle. In that time it released a solid wave of rads throughout the square. Her stomach lurched with radiation sickness, but she pressed it down. Then the bodies around them started to pick themself up…

__

_So sit down your pretty face_

__

_You came to the right place_

__

_Oh, where every night it starts once more_

__

_I'm telling you friend, your search is at an end_

__

_Cause I'm the one you're lookin' for._

\-------------------------------------------------------

“I’m going to... Kill Ayo...” Sole muttered, sitting in the diner in the middle of the square. She wasn’t doing so hot, she was out of shotgun shells, having to take out the last few ghouls with her combat knife. Three of whom managed to bite chunks out of her before she could stab them in the head. If it hadn’t been for her synth helmet, they would have easily clawed out her face. X6 wasn’t much better, but at least he could walk. 

“Ma’am, there seems to be an issue with the relay.” X6 murmured to her as he patched up some of the more gaping wounds on her person. “Something seems to be interfering with the signal.” Of course. Because today was already going so well. She took a deep breath, thinking about their next moves. 

“I have a plan then, but you won’t like it.” Sole finally said.

“Ma’am, I have enough confidence in your judgement to trust your decision making at this point.” X6 reassured her. 

__

“You need to leave me here and try and relay back to the Institute.” 

__

“I was _deeply_ mistaken, your decision making is compromised.” 

“I mean it 6, if the relay has been messed with, we need to know if the interference is from the area, or if it originates from the Institute.” Sole insisted. “If you can leave Cambridge and get the relay to work, then we know its the area. If you can’t get it to work anywhere then...” The unspoken words hit hard. Someone from the Institute could be trying to get them killed. 

“We can do it together. I will wait until you are able to walk.” X6 said, crossing his arms. “If the issue is with the area, then the threat is still present.”

“X6, think about it...” Sole said softly, “Ayo sent us here on a tip, all the radios were wired together to play and draw out ghouls, not to mention who else could mess with the relay?” X6 was silent. He didn’t want to believe the place he had devoted his life to would betray him. Finally he stood up and exhaled. 

“I’ll walk towards the ruins of the C.I.T., if we can get a signal anywhere, it will be there.” X6 explained, reloading his rifle with his few remaining energy cells. “I’ll be there and back in 30 minutes.” She nodded and he started towards the diner entrance, before pausing. “Take care you don’t succumb to your injuries, I’ve gotten used to these excursions.” She gave a weak smile and nodded.

\-------------------------------------------------------

She kept her head up, watching out for any movement on the square, and rummaged in her bag for a few plasma mines she could set up around her perimeter of the diner. It wouldn’t do her any good to let X6 down now. Only her bag was so cluttered, she couldn’t see where she’d put her mines. She struggled to her feet and placed the bag on a table, using the light to check it better.

It was at that moment she felt a bullet dig into her arm. She hissed and ducked down, searching wildly for the source. There was no way a sniper got her through one of the windows, she’d made sure she was out of their way. She ducked beneath a table, watching the doorway. There was no sign of someone there. The sting in her arm started to grow numb. Shit shit shit. She reached to inspect the wound on her bicep, expecting it to be soaked with more blood. But instead, the wound looked almost clean, and her fingers felt the cold steel of a syringe. _Shit shit shit._

She removed it carefully, barely feeling the needle as it slid out. Blood seeped through her jumpsuit, staining her sterile white armor further. Some poor Gen 2 would be traumatized as they did her laundry. That is If she made it back to the Institute...

She could feel the numbness spread through her chest, each breath becoming labored. Soon she would be completely paralyzed. She glanced around one last time, and saw a faint shimmer in the air. She knew exactly who had set this trap.

“OK, you win. Best two out of three?” She called out to the empty diner. Near the counter there was a faint flicker in the air, before it wore off and revealed the figure quietly stepping towards her, syringer in hand. 

“Sure, I’m up for Rock Paper Scissors.” a voice echoed over the checkered linoleum floor. Sole tried to lift her arm to play, but she couldn't even move her fingers. She looked up at him.

“Unless that tranquiliser has hit you. Then it’d be a pretty quick game.” He looked down at her, his face unfathomable behind his glasses. Even the usual ticks and quirks of his expression were concealed. “How about we play 20 questions instead.” He knelt down beside her, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “I’ll ask the questions, and you get to walk away from this with most of your fingers intact.” He took one of her limp wrists and cuffed it to the table stand. She was struggling to breathe now, her breathes coming out in gasps. He took out another syringe and popped it into the syringer. “Now I won’t lie to you, this is going to tickle.” He leveled it at her, pulling the trigger. The syringe dug into her leg, releasing a rush of pain through every fiber of her being. 

She screamed, jerking against her restraint, writhing on the floor. It felt as though she was burning alive. She clenched her teeth, trying to stifle more screams, her Synth helmet helped muffle some of the noise. 

She could take this. This was nothing. It was only her every nerve lighting up with pain signals. Man, she didn't even think her fingernails could feel pain. Now she knew better. She took deep even breaths, it stemmed some of the pain. She sat herself up, glaring up at Deacon. 

“Huh, Carrington must have diluted it. Most people kill themselves by this point. But then, I guess you aren't most people.”

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her usual banter, so she gritted her teeth and tried not to think about how much less painful it would be if she just jammed a pipe through her eye.

“So are you ready to play?” Deacon asked, a sinister edge to his voice. She remained silent. The pain was starting to ebb, her breathing evened out.

"Now usually, I don't waste time chatting with institute scum, at least not while they're still breathing. But we both know you're a special case." She remained silent. He took a breath, sitting down in front of her, a forced friendly smile on his face. 

"I feel like we got off to a bad start. The names Deacon. Now you say, ‘Hi Deacon I am....’" He gestured to her. She said nothing. "Now this interrogation would go a lot smoother if you worked with me here." Silence. He gave a loud sigh and loaded another syringe. She braced herself as he pulled the trigger and a second syringe lodged itself in her leg. 

What followed was a lot of screaming, as the pain from before rushed back three times worse. She could feel pain in every pore of her skin, as if she were sweating poison. She pounded the ground, every hit felt as though her fist was being shattered like glass against the linoleum, but at least it stopped her from pulling out her hair which felt like it was on fire. Everything was on fire. Breathing wasn’t going to fix this. 

“Let’s have a little give and take, I give you questions, and you get to take a shot of Med-X.” She nodded, and he pulled out a syringe, jamming into her leg. In moments the pain ebbed, the fire was now more like hot coals. 

“Question 1. Say an underground organisation with intentions to free synths wanted to break into the Institute, how might we do that?” 

“Oh easy. Knock 3 times and ask nicely.” Sole hissed. “There's a handshake involved too. Uncuff me and I’ll show you. Word of warning, it will feel a lot like a punch to the jaw.” He was unfazed. He silently loaded another syringe into his rifle. She swallowed, already flinching away from it.

“Question two. How many of these do you think you can survive?” He asked, leveling the rifle at her. “Because the record so far is three. After the second shot, most just bang their head into a bloody pulp on the nearest hard surface. By three, their bodies spasm until their muscles rip apart their bones. I tested this on **a lot** of Raiders.” He wasn’t playing around now. To him, she was just another institute synth. 

“That would make this the shortest game of 20 questions ever.” Sole answered carefully. 

“Answer question number 1 and we’ll see about how long it lasts.” Deacon said. “So again, how do we get into the institute?” 

“Teleporter.” She answered through gritted teeth. “The only way in and out.”

“OK question 3, how do _you_ do it?” He pressed.

“I’m a special case. I can go where I want, when I want.” She replied.

“Question 4, what makes you special?” He continued. She pressed her lips into a tight frown, not that he could see it from behind her helmet. How much did he know? “Oh? Tired of the game already?”

“Not at all, just thinking.” She insisted. “I suppose what makes me special is my winning smile.” He was silent for a moment, maybe considering whether to shoot her or not.

“We’ll come back to that one. Question 5, _Who are you_?” He asked instead. It hit her as hard as a syringe.

“I’m… My designation is S10-05.” She answered carefully. There was a flash of frustration on his face. “Why, have we met?”

“How is your son?” He asked, keeping his voice level. She took a breath, hoping that wasn’t enough to give her away.

“I don’t have a son” She replied softly. “I’m a synth.”

“Is that all?” Deacon asked in a low voice, drawing closer, a smirk on his lips. “Did they really wipe everything?” She was silent. She could have reached over to him then, grabbed the syringer and given him a taste of his own medicine. But she hesitated. He saw her hands move to the rifle, and he reeled back.

“Ooh oh you nearly had me going there.” He gave an empty laugh. “What is it with me and that voice, huh?” He adjusted his glasses. He knew who she was, and he knew **what** she was. Something she’d only found out a few days ago. _That bastard_.

“Question 7, let's have it.” She pressed, waving him on with her free hand. 

“Skipping one, aren't we?” He pointed out.

“So ‘how's your son?’ doesn't count?” She asked tiredly. He bristled a bit.

“OK question 7, sort of a part two to question four. Who are you in the institute?” He asked bluntly.

“Just another errand girl.” She answered bitterly. “If the higher ups tell me to go retain a synth somewhere, I go. If they tell me to blow up the prydwen for fun, I get my grenades.” 

“How long have you done that?”

“A week, synths in field don’t have a long life expectancy.” 

“And before that?” 

“Before that… I wasn’t alive.”

“You’re lying.”

“How could I?”

Deacon sat back. Silent for a moment. “So, you were just made by the institute, and that’s it? No pretend memories up in your head? Happy little backstory to keep you sane?” 

“That’s it. And you got it all in just eleven questions.” She replied evenly. “If we were playing fair, I’d get a few questions of my own.”

“I think I have a minute to humor you.” Deacon shrugged. “You get one question.”

“Why do this?” She asked, watching through the tinted visor of her helmet. “Why set a trap for a random synth?” He gave a heavy sigh. 

“So they did it. They used your recall code.” He muttered more to himself. He gave her a sidelong glance, avoiding her line of sight. “She was never this good a liar.” Sole was silent. “You… Never mind, it's not important. Actually, it makes this whole thing a lot easier.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it, standing up. “Most of this was to see how much you knew about us, maybe your motivations. Overall, figuring out if I could let you live.” 

“That doesn't sound like good news for me.” She noted, looking up at him. He traded his rifle for a silenced 10mm at his hip.

“Considering you’ve killed 80% of the people I called friends, either directly or indirectly, this is good news for me.” He clicked off the safety. “I mean, if you remembered even a scrap of your old life and still did what you did, I would have shot you with syringes until you bludgeoned yourself to death.” He pointed the barrel at her skull. She should have been terrorfied, panicked, anything… But instead she was calm, maybe even numb to the reality of it. 

“You never answered me...” She breathed. It unnerved him to say the least. She looked down at the floor, closing her eyes, using her free hand to take off her helmet. “Why me?” She set the helmet on the floor beside her.

“Delaying it won't change things.” He warned. 

“Consider it a last request.” She said coldly, looking into his eyes. “Tell me a story.” He flinched, that got him.

“You want a story?” He gave a forced laugh, hands trembling as they held the silenced 10mm. “Sure, why not. Once upon a time, there was a very stupid railroad agent, and he was out snooping one day when he noticed the institute creeps were doing something around the old cryo vault. He’d been in before, saw the usual Vault tech horror story, with a few additions from the Institute. Everyone inside was _dead. **Very dead.**_ ” He took a breath, stealing a look back at her. “But after the Institute clears out, suddenly a woman pops up. Someone who had been _very_ dead. So I watched her, tried to figure out what angle those lab coated bastards were pulling this time. What could they get out of putting a random synth out in the wastes? Especially one with a dead woman's face and memories.” 

“Maybe they got bored of stapling babies together.” Sole guessed, keeping the tremors from her voice. 

“I thought that. It seemed weird to create a synth that seemed purpose built to find and destroy the institute. A mother looking for her child; there didn’t seem to be anything that could stop her.” Deacon noted. “And then I spent time with her. Whoever she was, she wasn’t a dead woman. She had all her memories, but she was something new...” He paused, but shook off the hesitation. “I made her an agent, used her, and hoped it would lead us to the Institute.”

“You knew what she was… Did you tell her?” Sole asked, knowing the answer.

“I almost did once, when she was dying. In the end I just lied to her again.” He replied. This got her. She had saved his life, and lay dying and he still hadn’t told her the truth…

“You’re telling me, you let an institute plant into your secret organisation, and everyone was fine with that?” Sole asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“The boss wasn’t happy about it,” Deacon admitted, “But in the end, it's not like she was any different from the other synths from the Institute.” Each word stung, but without her helmet she couldn’t afford to let it show. “Besides, its handy keeping your friends close and enemies closer. Especially when they don’t realize which one they are.”

“I bet that was hilarious,” Sole said with a bitter smile. “A synth that thought she was a mother? A widow? Even thinking she had friends...” Sole was breaking down. “And you lied to her about everything, even when she was dying. Dying for _you_ -” She was cut off by rough hands hauling her off the ground, a fist gripping her uniform. Her wrist nearly snapped against the metal cuff chaining her to the table and she was suddenly staring into the furious face of Deacon. His sunglasses were askew, his eyes manic with fury like she had never seen. 

“What did you just say?” He snarled, face twisted with rage. She couldn't respond, she was in shock. “What. Did. You. Say.” He let go, letting her fall to the floor. She gripped her wrist, rubbing away the pain. “You weren’t recalled.” He was blind with anger, gun trembling in his fingers.

“You killed those agents, knowing everything... You...” It was time to get it out in the open, no more lying. To him or herself.

“Recalled isn’t the word for it.” She explained soflty. “The teleport messed up my body to the point of critical failure. They translated my memories to a new body, hoping to keep up the charade.” She shut her eyes, “It would have worked, if I hadn’t stumbled on their development log on me.” Her whole world had collapsed around her reading that damned tablet. “I’m model S10-05, prototype Gen 4 synth. That wasn't news that brightened my day.”

“Must be what Frankenstein's monster felt like towards the end.” Deacon muttered unsympathetically. 

“Pretty close,” She admitted. “I was certainly filled with a desire to kill my creator.”

“You’re doing a pretty poor job so far.” 

“I had planned on changing that, _if_ I lived through this encounter.”

“And if you _don’t_ live through this?”

Sole was quiet. She’d had a very loose plan of attack so far. Gain Institutes trust? Check. Gain top clearance to Institute? Check. Use these things to destroy the organisation that had taken her son and killed both her husband and herself… A work in progress. 

“If I don’t, take my pipboy, it has a relay to the Institute. Tinker Tom might be able to reverse engineer it.” She answered, looking down at the peeling linoleum. “It won’t be hard if you can already mess with their signal.”

“Of course, and I’m sure it won’t also alert the Institute to our location, nice try.”

“You’re in Hangman’s alley.”

“How did you- Shit. I told Tinker not to leave that damned sign.” Deacon swore. “Does the institute- No, if they knew we’d be dead already.” He was quiet while he thought for a moment, then put down the 10mm. “So let’s talk.” 

“Before we do… Got anymore Med-X?” She asked, feeling the burning start to return. It made her want to peel off her skin and tear out her nerve endings. Deacon produced another dose and carefully injected it. It took longer for the pain to ebb this time. She sighed with relief.

“Did you find Patriot?” He asked, his voice low. 

“The teleport rearranged my organs, what do you think it did to the holotape?”

“What’s the story with tall, dark, and handsome?” 

“I got a thing for emotionally unavailable men in sunglasses.” 

At that he gave an involuntary chuckle, but he shook it off. He could see her properly now, broken and bleeding, in agony. It seemed she had a habit of ending up like that. 

“The teleport...Was it really that bad?” He asked softly.

“I don’t know, everything after I got in was blacked out, but I hear I made it pretty far before hemorrhaging.” She replied quietly. “I feel bad for the person who had to clean that up…” 

“Looks like I lost some caps in the pool then…” Deacon looked away. “Tinker was so sure the matrix held…” 

“You know, I would have looked for Patriot, holotape or no, but my memory was pretty fuzzy when I woke up.” She continued, though weakly. “It still is actually, only seem to remember… Well… _You_.” The Med-X was fading again. “Hey, Deeks, not to be a bother but-“ 

“I’m out of Med-X.” 

“Crap…” She closes her eyes, the agony was exhausting. 

“Charmer...” Deacon started, but she put a hand up to stop him.

“Charmer’s dead...” She pointed out tiredly. “I saw her name on the board… Crossed out.”

“S10,” He started again, she didn’t stop him. “For what it’s worth. Not everything was a lie.”

There was a sudden shot to her already bruised legs, and then a beautiful numbness. She sighed happily, resting against the table she was chained to. She didn’t even mind the tightness in her chest closing in on her every breath. Her Pip-boy was gently removed, and she heard the static crackle of a stealth boy activate, followed by the soft pat of sneakers leaving the diner.

Sole lay there, hand chained to the table, breathing laboured, all the pain was a million miles away. If she could move the muscles in her face, she would have smiled. 

She didn’t even hear the crack of blue lightning outside, and the heavy footsteps of a Courser stepping towards her. By the time he reached her, she wasn’t even breathing.

\-------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun reunions all around! I really liked this chapter, but I might come back to it later and edit it a little. Give me your thoughts on it. Next chapter will be up tomorrow. We're nearly done now guys :)
> 
> Edit: Oh boy, did I say tomorrow, I mean like a long time. I'm at a part of the story I can't quite make work. I have quite a few ideas, but I want to make sure it's worth reading and coherent first so it's going to be a little while. 
> 
> So in the meantime here are some of my favorite fics that you might enjoy: _Bobby Pins and Broken Bottles_ , and _Apocalypse Herald_ (both by FreshMess, and both of which are incredibly good at making me blush), _Tomorrow is a Long Time_ by Khirsah (This one was a pretty formative piece of writing for this story), _Do Not Go Gentle_ by TheWriterOfFira (This one is so beautiful, and the writer does some amazing art as well), and _Thick As Thieves_ by Infrared (My first introduction to Deacon fanfiction, and still ongoing!). All of these are Fallout related, and all of them are infinitely more compelling than what I am writing. Please check them out if you haven't already.
> 
> I am going to finish this fic this year though, so don't worry. Again, thank you guys for reading this far! I've learned so much since I started this.


	15. Heaven, I'm In Heaven...

__

_Heaven, I'm in Heaven_

__

_And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak;_

__

_And I seem to find the happiness I seek_

__

_When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek…_

That verse, it was stuck in her head… Running through it over and over. 

__

_Heaven, I'm in Heaven…._

She couldn't feel much, couldn’t smell much… all she could hear was a faint beep and those lyrics…

__

_And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak;_

She wasn’t quite sure what was happening to her. She could be dead. But if she was, where was Nate? This wasn’t the afterlife she was promised…

__

_And I seem to find the happiness I seek_

__

_When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek…_

Was she in a hospital? The Institute? Those were just words to her right now, they meant as much to her as ‘heaven’ or ‘hell’. Just imaginary places. She was just imaginary. 

__

_Heaven, I'm in Heaven_

Then something clicked into place. The sound of the beeps, the heart monitor, came into focus. She could feel the soft mattress beneath her, the rise and fall of her chest against blankets. At first all she could smell was an iron tang of blood, but it cleared and was replaced with the smell of chlorine. It reminded her of the little swimming pool her mom used to take her to... She breathed deeply, it was her favorite smell. 

“-She’s coming around...” A voice mentioned near her. 

“Of course she is. I’ll be back to check her progress when she’s fully recovered.” A second voice replied, Shauns voice. Old, raspy, but his. Then his footsteps echoed out of her room, he’d left her. She sighed, maybe in disappointment. Her eyes felt heavy, too heavy to lift. 

“If you are awake, could you give me a sign?” The voice asked, someone familiar. Carrington? She did her best to twitch her hands, trying to raise them. “Good, that's enough.” She relaxed again. “You gave us all quite the scare, you’ve been out for awhile.” She felt something click again inside her, and she could feel her arms, a tingle of nerves running all the way to her finger tips. She opened and closed her hands experimentally. “Oh good, everything seems to be coming back to you.” Things did come back to her, not just her muscle memory, but her actual memories. All of it. She opened her eyes, looking straight at Carrington. Her vision felt clearer, her motions smoother. 

“If I asked you something, would you answer me honestly?” She asked quietly. He took a breath before nodding solemnly. “ _What happened to me?_ ”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Two days later** _

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sole worked her way up the steps to the relay room. Now that she was on her feet, she’d have to figure out another way to get back out in the field. Without her pip-boy she felt like a beached whale washed far ashore. A Courser passed her as she climbed, giving her a polite nod as he went. It was someone she didn’t recognize, probably just come back from a mission. Her steps slowed to a stop. _X6…_ No, she couldn’t dwell on it. It was done, he was gone. She had to keep going. Her steps resumed, making her way to the top where the relay room lay. 

It looked a lot older than the rest of the Institute, less polished, less researchers. A single Gen two synth guard stood watch over the area. At the center was a console board of buttons, dials and switches, manned by a single technician. He didn’t hear her approach, too transfixed watching the sequences of lights flashing up. She cleared her throat, and he spun around in his chair, startled. He tried to compose himself when he realized who was standing before him.

“Uh, Ma’am? Do you need something?” The technician asked, a little unsure. Sole crossed her arms, should she use force or charm? Maybe both?

“My relay was lost on my last mission.” She explained impatiently, her eyes driving daggers into him. A look that had done wonders for her on the surface. The researcher swallowed, adjusting his glasses.

“I- I understand that, but this system… Only designated figures can move between here and the surface. Without your pip-boy….” He started, but his voice fell away under her glare. “I mean… If you had a Courser to escort-”

“My Courser escort is gone.” Sole replied sharply, maybe more sharply than she had meant. The loss of X6 was still a fresh wound. “Father had him recalled him after he failed to protect me.” The man had to hold back a cowardly whimper. She needed to try the other approach, fear wouldn’t get her anywhere.

She took a breath, and replaced her scowl with a smile. “So you can see, I am a more efficient resource to the Institute when I work alone.” 

“Oh, right, of course.” The man nodded quickly, “I- I find it the same way.” She could tell, he worked this entire relay system by himself. Not an easy task. 

“So let’s work something out.” She started, pulling over a chair so she could sit beside the researcher. “I have a bit of pull, so to speak. Is there anyway I could help you with your work here?” He sat up a little now, his initial terror falling away to curiosity. “You run this whole board single handedly, that can’t be easy.”

“Well, at first yes,” He explained, a little excited to have an open ear. “At first it was impossible, I had a few other researchers here, but everyone was working over each other. A lot of crossed lines and some, uh, tragic accidents.” His eyes dipped away for a moment. Sole was familiar with the ill effects of unregulated relaying. “But then I worked out an automated system that works on, uh, a sorta closed circuit… Sorry, you don’t want to hear about that.” He apologized. She shook her head, smiling to let him continue. His face brightened. “Oh well, so I got it to work all from one place, rather than have several different frequencies. I mean, it’s super easy… I could use some updated equipment...”

“Consider it done.” Sole promised immediately. He blinked in surprise. Then his eyes looked down. 

“I get it, you want an unauthorized trip to the surface,” He said solemnly, staring at the lit up display in front of him. Something flashed up, and he flipped a switch instinctively. “You’ll promise a bunch of things, and then when Father finds out, i’ll get re-assigned.” He flipped a couple more switches. “Why do you think I’m the only one left here?” There was a moment of silence as that set in. She shook her head, and the technician looked back at her.

“You’re right, sorry, I should have explained.” Sole apologised. “I don’t have access to my relay, but I still have to complete missions for Father. I came down here to work out another way to relay.” She smiled genuinely. “I didn’t mean to make it sound as though I was doing something under the radar, I just wanted to know if I could help you out. Your work is actually impressive.” He looked back at her in relief. 

“Sorry, just, used to… Nevermind.” He shook his head. “Leave it with me, i’ll send something over to Advanced systems to have you back out there.” She smiled gratefully. 

“That’s a huge help, thank you… What was your name?”

“Derik, uh, Derik Ashman...” He answered, spluttering slightly. 

“Your name tag says _‘Dalc’_.” Sole noticed, squinting at his small plastic card pinned to his lab coat. “Dalc Ashmen? Or is it Ashmen Dalc?” 

“Oh that was, uh, a joke by the guys...” He tried, but in truth it was a typo he’d been too nervous to correct. 

“It’s pretty good,” She said with a shrug, pulling herself from the chair. “See ya later Dalc,”

“Yeah..” But she was already out the door. Maybe next time he would have the nerve to correct her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was one thing off her list. Sole had a checklist a mile long, and a way to relay was key to all of them. She wondered if Deacon was putting her pip-boy to use, after all, he had taken it from her near dead body....

Her next step was to the cafeteria. She needed a food supplement, and word in the halls was that they had a new flavor.

She walked down the stairs with a practiced restraint, instead of her usual gallop down to the ground floor. All eyes were on her now. She had to be a model member of the institute. She kept her eyes up, smiling politely. She felt kindred souls around her, the gen 3 synths that had to pretend they were happy being tools of the Institute. The line between her and them was as thin as a knifes edge. 

The Gen 2 at the counter handed her a pale food supplement packet on a plastic tray. _Oh boy, just like mamma used to make..._ She thought, walking over to an open bench near the gardens. She uncapped it and took a sip and smiled, it tasted like powdery chocolate. 

Something she would have hated back when she had access to actual chocolate, but in post apocalypse, you had to live for the little things. 

“Oh hey, Sole.” A voice called over to her. She glanced up, and held back a roll of her eyes. 

“Hey Liam,” She answered, taking another sip of supplement. “Made any progress in your chess simulation?” 

“My wha- Oh yeah right!” He was confused at first, before remembering. It was times like this when she missed the professionalism of the RailRoad. “Oh yeah, not great. But I’m working on a move that’s sure to do the trick.”

“Just remember, ignore the pawns, go straight for their Rook. That’s how you take the castle, then the King.” Sole advised. It took another moment for the advice to register, and even then it probably didn’t sink in. Fahrenheit would have loved that line. 

“Sure, right.” He shrugged. “Anyway how’s your chess thing going?” 

“I’m making progress.” She said finishing her supplement. “Captured a bishop, now I just need to take back my knight and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Oh, great?” He replied, unsuredly. “Um, how’s the food supplement?” 

“Did you know that the further from Earth you are, the further back in time you can see?” She asked instead.

“It’s more complicated than that, but sure?”

“Well, someone 200 light years from here, would see us before the bombs fell.”

“Maybe a bit further than that...”

“This supplement tastes like what we’d see if we saw the Earth from that distance.”

“... You’re fucking with me now, right?”

Sole shook her head with a sad smile and stood up. 

“I’ll send you a message when I’ve made more progress.” She said, looking back at him. “Until then, good luck with your chess moves.” He didn’t have anything good to say back to that, he just watched her go, still holding her empty supplement packet. He just muttered under his breath,

“ _Is everyone on the surface like that? Maybe Dad was right..._ ”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, alone. She sat on her bed, staring at the smooth grey ceiling. It had been an eventful 48 hours since waking up. 

Carrington actually gave her an honest, though hushed, explanation of what had happened to her. Not just since Deacon killed her… But since she crawled out of that cryopod all those months ago. Her eyes closed, his words echoing back to her. 

_“It started out as a more efficient way for synths to supplant surface dwellers, a way for Institute agents to seamlessly infiltrate settlements and into the lives of existing people. There were prototypes of course, but they failed miserably. It was hard to figure out what was going wrong when everything was failing at once. So they used the only human they knew had a chance to work, Father.”_

_“And made the child…?”_

_“Yes, they took his memories of childhood, logs on his development… But even that was difficult to get off the ground. After all, his childhood took place many years ago, those memories were difficult to transfer. But it proved the concept could work, but they needed another untainted sample mind to transfer, and naturally you were chosen.”_

_“But I was… Dead?”_

_“Yes, Father’s mother died when she was re-frozen in her cryopod. By all accounts, this was beneficial for the Institute. She was perfectly preserved, but without the ethical implications of taking someone's brain. I’m sorry… If this is too upsetting...”_

_“No, keep going. I want to know… The experiment logs in my file weren’t this... Personal.”_

_“Well, they placed her raw memories into a synth model, S10-04.... And placed her back in the cryogenic pod just as she would have awoken naturally.”_

_“Why…?”_

_“She had a lot to process at once. She’d just seen her husband shot, her child taken… And then there was the state of the world outside… Father felt it was better if she had time to process things before we brought her on board with the Institute… Well, that was how it was supposed to be.”_

_“I had a feeling things hadn’t gone to plan.”_

_“In a manner of speaking. Father became somewhat obsessed with her quest to find him. I didn’t see it personally, but Maddison saw it firsthand. I think he was seeing a parents love for the first time and it moved something inside him. He wanted to see how far she would go to save him… I… I’d like to think if things were different I would have...”_

_“It’s ok Carrington, take your time.”_

_“Sorry, I just… Where was I? Oh yes, Father’s obsession. Well, we knew it wouldn’t end until she defied all expectations and made it into the Institute. And she did. She relayed into the sub levels, vomiting bile and blood. It was horrific to watch her struggle upwards… And when she made it to Father… To Shaun… She collapsed in his arms, and he held her as she hemorrhaged and died...”_

_“That… That doesn’t sound good....”_

_“It wasn’t. Something snapped in him when that happened. He could have avoided this all just by reaching out to her.... After that it wasn’t about the experiment anymore. It was about saving you.”_

_“Better late than never...”_

_“I suppose. He got another model made for you, S10-05. Unfortunately, memory transfer between models had some issues. There was a few issues with the new models data capacity.”_

_“That explains the amnesia.”_

_“I’m afraid so. That was my doing actually...”_

_“Pardon?”_

_“I was in charge of both your memory transfers. My wife and I both studied practical memory transference, researching how it was done pre-war. It made sense to put me in charge of this. I saw your life before the bombs, and I saw your memories of Stanley and Amari….”_

_“That makes sense. Looking back, those were some of the only memories I had left.”_

_“That was on my selfish whim. I saw my children and I… I couldn’t let those memories fade for anything.”_

_“What did you do with the rest?”_

_“I saved them. Like any other data. I kept them just in case the opportunity arose to restore them… The opportunity came up sooner than I had thought. It might take some time for those memories to click into place, but they’ll trigger eventually.”_

_“Anything I should look out for? You saw them for yourself, what can I expect?”_

_“You, uh…. You didn’t mourn your husband for very long...”_

_“That tells me about jackshit.”_

_“Try listening to the radio next time you are on the surface.”_

_“Anything else you could help me with Confucius?”_

_“Yes, find **Patriot**.”_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she opened her eyes again, it was much later, she hadn’t even realised she’d fallen asleep. She sat up. Her new model was an improvement on everything before, it felt wonderful. If only it hadn’t come at a cost. She leaned over to the bedside table, and slid open the drawer. The broken sunglasses were still inside. She breathed a small sigh of relief, the last thing she had of X6 was still there. She slid the drawer back with reluctance, the shimmer of the glass vanishing into the dark. She sighed, sinking back into the bed.

It was hard to think about, X6 was gone. Recalled, redesignated, and was somewhere on the surface doing what he was made for. She never even got to say goodbye... He was someone else now. She wondered briefly, if somewhere in this place there was a recall code with her name on it… 

At the end of the day she was just another number to the Institute. _S10-06_. It had a nice ring to it…

There was a knock at her door. Sharp, professional. She already knew who it was. Sole drug herself out of bed and to the door, activating the lock and sliding it open. There stood X4-18. His usual dour expression seemed more so now. He looked down at her with thinly veiled disdain.

“Can I help you?” Sole asked, her tone level. 

“Director Ayo would like an update on the matter of...” He started, before lowering his voice. “The leak.” 

“I’ve looked into it extensively and I don’t have any news.” Sole replied evenly. “I told him that Alan Binet wasn’t involved in helping the escaped synths.”

“But you neglected to find out who is.” X4 countered, arching an eyebrow in annoyance. 

“Sounds like we have something in common after all.” Sole answered, holding back a smirk at his expense. “When I find out more I’ll inform Ayo myself.”

“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable.” X4 said coldly, “Director assigned me to personally provide assistance until the culprit is apprehended.” Her stomach sunk.

“That’s hardly necessary…” Sole started.

“I agree, but Director Ayo was adamant.” X4 agreed, eyes narrowing. “It’s as if he doesn’t believe you have the Institutes best interests at heart.”

“He was the one who asked me to help him fix his mess.” Sole snapped, the irritation getting to her. “He’s had synths escape for months and he gives me a day to fix it for him?” She looked down and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. 

“You understand the Institute is nearing the completion of phase three,” X4 explained carefully, as if he was reciting an office memo. “It will pave the way for the Institute to live and work beneath the surface peacefully. Father has requested that issues such as this need to be resolved before we can move on.” 

“So Ayo’s ass is on the line, and he’s sent you to make sure I don’t let him hang out to dry?” Sole surmised. A flicker of a nod from X4 told her she was right. “And you won’t be leave me alone until it gets resolved one way or another?” Another nod from him. “Alright, but you’re not going to like how this ends.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... You are mistaken.” X4 said in a voice barely above a hoarse whisper. They stood in the cold sublevels of the Institute, one of the few places no one could hear them. “Director Ayo is not responsible...” His voice trailed away, unable to process what she had told him.

“Director Ayo has been switching safe surface crew members with flight risks. All the evidence points to it.” Sole explained gently. “He’s the only one with information about which synths are most likely to run, his terminal had access to the work crews and their rota, he was the first to point his finger at Alan Binet...” She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you why he’s doing this. Maybe he’s doing it to try and keep the SRB relevant, keep his stranglehold over the whole Institute.” She almost felt a little bad lying to X4 like this, he seemed devastated.

“He… He sent me to… He wanted me to find something that tied you to this...” X4 sat down on an old conveyor belt, rusty from disuse, slouching over. “He was just trying to find another scapegoat...” He closed his eyes. “Ayo… He’s changed since Doctor Zimmer left to hunt down rogue Coursers. The power must have gone to his head...” X4 opened his eyes and tried to sit up, doing his best to compose himself. 

“You see why I couldn’t just report my findings now.” Sole said sadly, “Ayo would have erased all the evidence before I had a chance to tell Shaun. I was hoping He would simply close the issue, but it seems he wants to cover his tracks.” X4 stood up. 

“I understand, I shouldn’t have let my personal issues interfere with my perception of the situation.” X4 admitted. “I suppose I let my bias against you cloud my judgement.”

“Pretty bold words, X4.” Sole noted, a small smile. He looked down at her.

“You came to this area because of its clandestine atmosphere, I doubt you’ll be able to prove I said anything untoward.” X4 replied, a touch of his usual snark in his tone. “Besides, I wouldn’t make a habit of becoming familiar with you. That seems to be a fatal mistake for some.” 

_Ouch._

“He’s not-” Sole tried, but her tongue felt heavy just saying the words.

“X6-88 and I weren’t what you would call ‘friends’ but I respected his skill.” X4 cut her off sharply. “A recall takes away everything from you. Everything is gone. _He’s_ gone. For all we know they scrapped his body for organic material...” His voice hitched. He paled and coughed, quickly composing himself. 

“How about we just get this all over with, and go back to hating each other at a respectful distance.” Sole said finally.

_“Yes, Ma’am.”_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sole was first assigned to find the leak, she fully expected it to be Alan Binet. He seemed pretty good for the crime. That was until Sole found his personal synth hacking a supply room terminal. After some coaxing, she found out the person behind the leak was a child. Some twenty something kid, Alan’s son Liam. Patriot turned out to be some kid freeing synths like it was a pet project. He didn’t understand the magnitude of his actions. 

Sole helped the two of them to frame Ayo, planting evidence into his personal terminal, and biding their time until they could put their plan into action. X4’s arrival hastened things a bit. 

Sole and X4 walked the halls towards Father’s office. Between them, they could pin Ayo for this easily. A loyal Courser and Shaun’s own mother… If you couldn’t trust them, who could you trust? Still, the walk was tense and quiet. She glanced around for something to talk about, noticing his plasma rifle.

“So you use plasma weapons?” She asked.

“That is correct.”

“I’m pretty attached to ballistic weapons myself.”

“Fascinating.”

“You know I could overclock that thing for you, give you a bit more ‘oompf’.”

“I’ll pass.”

This was impossible. She wasn’t interested in being this guys best friend. Surely she could make it to Father’s office without going crazy with boredom… Nope, can’t do it. Have to make small talk.

“So, you listen to any music?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Music? You know, like songs on the radio. You gotta have a favorite, right?

“I don’t listen to the radio.”

“Oh bullshit.”

“Ma’am, please mind your language.”

“Do you like anything?”

“Coursers do not ‘like’ things. We do our job.”

Sole rubbed her head, she had forgotten how strict Courser rules were. It made all the familiarity between her and X6 all the more dangerous. X4 was right to keep a professional distance. Maybe X6’s ‘death’ had him rattled. He’d been particularly reserved since then, a reminder that synths were meant to be tools, not people. 

They finally approached the door to Father’s office. Sole felt her stomach knot together. She hadn’t seen him since she woke up. He was too busy, or too sick… Her hand hesitated over the door. What if he was asleep. She swallowed. Maybe she should come back later…

A sharp knock broke her out of her trance. X4’s knuckles rapped the plastic of the automatic door before it slid open. He shot her a look before walking in. She followed. 

Shaun was on his bed, hooked up to the nines with wires and tubes. Doctor Volkert stood beside him, looking over at them in annoyance. Sole was transfixed in horror, watching the laboured breaths of Father… Shaun… 

She remembered when he was barely a year old he’d had a chest infection. She had watched her baby struggle to breath, a nebulizer strapped to his tiny face… They were in the hospital for three days and it killed her to see him like this…

“Is this an emergency?” Volkert snapped at them, Sole slowly approached Shaun’s side. Her son looked up at her with tired eyes, a weak smile on his cracked lips. “Father needs to rest.” She was at his side, holding his weak hand. His skin was thin and fragile, spotted with age and sagging. It felt wrong to be holding her son’s ancient hands in her young ones. 

“It… It can wait...” Sole said quietly, her eyes still on her son. 

“I’m afraid it can’t.” X4 cut in. She flinched. “We have vital information concerning Director Ayo.” Father looked up at her questioning. 

“It’s… It is important.” She admitted. “He’s been helping synths escape. We have proof… But we don’t have to do this. Not now...” Her tone was almost pleading. Lying to X4 was one thing. But this was Shaun. He was sick. Too sick to be dealing with this.

“Mother...” Shaun’s voice was weak, it brought prickling tears to her eyes. “I trust you can handle this…?” She nodded eagerly, biting her lip. He smiled and closed his eyes. “Good… I’ll be with you… shortly...” He seemed to drift into sleep. She reluctantly let go of his hand, before turning back at Volkert and X4. It looked like it was her call now. She took a steadying breath.

“Time to pay Ayo a little visit.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Ayo was taken away, and Alana Secord made acting Director, Sole had a chance to snoop through the SRB terminals. She had to find out what happened to him. What happened to X6….

There was a file containing former Courser agents, but these were mostly rogue agents. One was last seen in the Capital Wasteland, another disappeared looking for a synth sanctuary… Then she came to X6-88.

_X6-88: Status = Recalled. Model redesignated, reassigned to surface crew work._

At least he wasn’t scrapped… She let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could even find a way to escape, now that he was finally free of his blind loyalty to this hell hole… 

“Can I help you with anything else, Ma’am?” A familiar snarky voice asked. She looked over her shoulder to see X4. “If not, I believe your business is concluded.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” She agreed, shutting the terminal down and straightening up. “Here’s hoping we don’t have to run into each other again.” A glint in his eye told her the feeling was mutual, even if he couldn’t say it. 

“Yes, I hope there are no more issues that require our combined talents.” He said carefully, the underlying context of _‘Fuck you too’_ stuck out like a sore thumb. She smiled.

“Catch ya later, _X3_.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe that worked!” Liam gushed excitedly, typing away at his terminal. Eve, the Binet’s personal synth, stood in the kitchen, mixing up some powdered Parchmints brand lemonade. 

“We got lucky in all the right places.” Sole said in relief. “But this does mean you can’t touch the rota’s again.”

“We won’t need to with Z1’s plan.” Liam said happily. “He’s getting all the synths that want to leave together. Once I work out these old world access codes, we can help them all to leave.” Eve brought over a pitcher of ice cold substitute lemonade. 

“Anyone thirsty?” She asked in her sugary sweet synth voice.

“Thanks Eve,” Liam said, taking a glass, oblivious to the false charm. Sole took a glass, smiling gratefully. Would she leave with them? 

“Well, you keep working on those access codes and I’ll find out what Father wants me to do next.” Sole said, taking a sip of her drink. It was tart and sweet. She wondered if she could smuggle some packets of this out with her when she left this place for good. “I think Allie Filmore was trying to flag me down for something...”

“Probably to help her change broken light bulbs or something.” Liam replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Sole agreed.

_In short, Allie Filmore wanted more than a few changed bulbs, as Sole was about to find out._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back. Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos, i'm actually blown away by them. I'm sneakily putting in some shout outs to you guys, so if I haven't gotten to you, just stay tuned. Next chapter should be done and edited by tomorrow. You guys are amazing, thank you for reading this!


	16. Maybe... (Party at Mass Fusion)

_There are hard decisions ahead of us for everyone, but especially you. I know you’ll do the right thing…_

The relay zapped them onto a crumbling balcony on the Mass Fusion building. Sole glanced around her, the Commonwealth was miles below them. She wasn’t usually bad with heights, but even this made her heart skip a beat. It was like nearly falling off the Prydwen all over again, but with no one to catch her. A firefight on the ground snapped her out of her dread.

“Well the intel was right, the Brotherhood sure is here. Guess we’ll have to go through them.” Allie noted beside her, looking down at the scattering of BOS knights on the streets. _I guess that's why the front door wasn't an option._

Word on the street had been that the Brotherhood remnants were holed up here, probably looking for the same thing they were. A Beryllium Agitator. It was the only thing that could get a nuclear reactor online, and that was valuable for anyone with ambitions to reshape the world.

They moved inside the wreckage of the building. This place looked wildly unsafe, how was it still standing after 200 years? How was it holding all these reject tin cans? Sole glanced down at her armor and weaponry, could she hold off all these soldiers?

Allie had a institute rifle and the standard Institute hooded suit, their back up was a few gen 2’s and a third heavily armored… Probably Gen 2? She couldn’t see anything under their synth helmet. Sole cocked her shot gun as they came across their first Brotherhood resistance: A startled scribe with wide eyes and a pipe pistol. A Gen 2 took him out and they moved forward, clearing hostiles and alerting the rest of the Brotherhood to their presence. Thankfully, no one in Power Armor yet as they moved through the ruined building, but more knights poured towards them, taking cover around wreckage. 

Allie had a schematic of the building, leading them deeper into the building, up stairs, down stairs, all while fending off the haggard remnants of the Brotherhood. One of the Gen 2’s fell in a heap of sparking metal and wires, they moved over its body to take cover in an old engineering lab. Sole shut the door behind them as Allie inspected the room. There was a furnace in the middle of the room that looked kind of nuclear, but Allie frowned.

“No sign of it here… We’ll have to search another section.” She mused, all while the sound of laser shots could be heard pinging against the door behind them. Sole looked at their remaining synths. The unarmoured Gen 2 was looking beat up, most of his synthetic skin was torn and the wiring beneath was sparking dangerously. The other one was in much better condition, their armor barely singed from laser fire. At least someone here was competent. 

Sole looked over at her inventory. She had plenty of shotgun ammo, a few mines, and a single plasma grenade. Was it worth using it here? An explosion blasted the door open and removed the option entirely.

The explosion unleashed a cloud of dust and rusted metal, creating a smokescreen at the doorway, soldiers emerged, unleashing a blaze of lasers and plasma. Sole ducked behind a counter and took well timed pot shots, taking out a handful of soldiers. The second Gen 2 blew up behind her, probably hit by a stray laser. Sole ducked down just as a shot of plasma flew over her head, razing the top of her hair. On top of the smell of ozone and obliterated synth, she had to contend with the scent of burnt hair. Ok, it was worth using it now.

She broke the seal and tossed the plasma grenade over her shoulder, hearing it thud behind her. She covered her ears as it imploded in a powerful wave of green energy. She waited, listening… There was silence. She glanced over, observing the chaos. It seemed they’d taken out the brunt of their forces. Hopefully it would be smooth sailing going forward.

_It was not smooth sailing going forward._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Sole, Allie, and the last Synth stood in the elevator, heading down to the main reactor, which Alli had on good authority would be where the Beryllium Agitator was. In Allie’s hand was an ID card to access further areas of the building; pried off the corpse of a former employee. Sole’s stomach turned as she taken the little plastic ID, but Allie barely registered the discomfort. Sole sighed, glancing at the name on the card. _Sorry, Camilla, but I guess you didn’t need this anymore, huh?_

They descended down to the earth, the buildings below them rising up to them in a way that filled her with relief. Sole was almost happy to be heading underground again. 

That was until a blast of red energy shattered the glass in front of them.

“It’s an ambush!” Allie growled in annoyance taking out a few soldiers with well placed shots. _Thanks for the update Allie._ Sole thought, switching out her shotgun with a laser rifle she’d picked off a Brotherhood corpse. She picked off as many as she could see, scanning every level as they descended, wary of becoming the most attractive pile of ash in the wasteland. 

“Blow the conduit!” One of the knights shouted over the battle. Sole’s eyes widened in horror. They were still a few stories above the ground. She held tight to the elevator as it suddenly hurtled to the ground, crashing to the platform. She collapsed to the floor, the jolt of impact running through her body like a gunshot. 

The **clang** and _hiss_ of hydraulic braces hitting the floor told her she was in deep shit.

“ **For Honor and Glory!** ” A voice bellowed, charging towards them. Sole scrambled to her feet, legs feeling brittle and unsteady. She looked up in time to see a power armor fist grab her and yank her out of the elevator. She was thrown to the floor, the air was knocked out of her lungs. 

“ **The Institute will pay for the Brotherhood blood it spilt!** ” The voice bellowed through the crackle of the power armor. She rolled out of the way as a massive leg stomped down towards her. The impact on the ground shook her to her bones. _C’mon, you’re the latest model of synth. You can do better than this._ She gasped for air, rolling to her feet. She dodged a powerful fist, spiked with rebar, and grabbed her shotgun. 

She managed a few rounds to his helmet, before it finally pinged off. She recognized him by the description from the Institute intel. _Shit, that’s Maxson._ She cursed herself for not looking for this bastard harder.

"Big talk from an oversized tin of cram!" She shouted, reloading her shotgun. He swung at her, but she focused fire on his arm until the spiked fell apart, the punch connecting with air. "Ooh, nearly got me. Keep trying, junior." She smirked, reloading again. He snarled at her, pulling out a grenade from God knows where, and lobbed it at her. It fell at her feet, her smile faltering. _Shit._. She leaped back, her ass hitting the ground, scooting away from it in panic. It went off with a pop, sending shrapnel flying towards her. She covered herself, coughing from the cloud of dust and smoke it whipped up. Her ears were ringing from the explosion so much she couldn’t hear the pounding of metal bounding towards her... 

She looked up just as a laser beam rung out through the smoke. 

There was a clang of steel collapsing to the floor. The fallen Elder nothing more than ash sifting through his power armor. She glanced behind her, the armored synth already shouldering his laser rifle once more. Sole took a breath, her heart racing in her chest, the dust clearing around them. Allie peeked out from the elevator, before shakily climbing out.

“We should… We should find a way to return power to the elevator...” She advised, still shaken from their fall. It was a wonder she was willing to get back in anything after something like that. Sole nodded and dusted herself off, glancing at the synth.

“You, watch my back. We need to check these rooms for a switch or something.” Sole called over to the synth. They nodded and followed her. She entered the first room on the ground floor, scattered with burnt folders and decaying papers. They were in luck, there was a blinking terminal nearby. 

She flicked through the digital files, past mail relays and interoffice squabbles, to the a power route command. _Hell yes I’d like to reroute power, thank you!_ She clicked away until the whir of the tech came to life, the elevator groaning as it righted itself. The synth remained behind her, rifle at the ready, checking for leftover hostiles. 

“Hey, synth, gotta designation?” She asked over her shoulder, heading back to the elevator. There was no response. She’d heard most Gen 2’s didn’t have an assigned designation. Still, the silence was eerie. “How about I give you one.” Still nothing. “How does Dani sound?” They reached the elevator, Allie was waiting impatiently for them to get going. “Alright, i’m just going to call you Blank, because that’s what you’re doing right now: You’re _blanking_ me!.” The elevator doors closed around them, as much good it did them. 

“Alright, we’re going to need to get to the next elevator quickly.” Allie informed them as the elevator descended further. “The brotherhood might have more soldiers camped out below us.”

“Bring them on, Blank and I got this.” Sole said, trying to sound more confident than she was. Allie gave her a look, obscured by the mask on her hooded suit.

“You don’t know this synths designation?” She asked in confusion. “Carrington said you assigned him to this mission.”

“I didn’t-” She started, but they reached the floor, and the cries of the brotherhood knights drowned out her questions. They shot out of the elevator, following Allie to another hall. She hurriedly pressed the call button of a second elevator as Sole and Blank fended off more knights. These one felt heavily armed, more prepared for combat. Didn’t save them from a slug between the eyes though.

“C’mon!” Allie called as the elevator dinged open. They scrambled inside, the ancient steel doors closing behind them. They breathed a collective sigh of relief. When the doors slid open again, it was quiet. Before them was a glass observation window, looking onto a massive reactor. 

“There’s the reactor.” Allie mused, glancing down at it. “Not a bad piece of work, for it’s time.” 

“Because what could go wrong with a 200 year old neglected nuclear furnace…” Sole muttered, just loud enough for the synth to hear. There was a slight exhale audible from beneath their helmet. 

The three of them worked their way through the abandoned labs. Passing through empty offices, an employee locker room, a staff lounge… All the while being keenly aware of the rising temperature. It was a familiar sickly warmth Sole had felt wandering the Glowing Sea… Except now they were standing in front of a decontamination chamber leading to the reactor.

“Guess they weren’t so good at mitigating radiation back in those days… Levels are almost off the charts. I’ll monitor things from here...” Allie noted, checking the Geiger counter built into her suit. Sole looked around, spying a couple spare hazmat suits nearby.

“Sounds fun i’ll just suit up myself.” Sole said, already picking up the suit and unzipping it. “So I just run through there and climb on that big ol’ reactor?”

“Well, yeah, the Agitator should be at the top of the reactor.” Allie explained. Sole looked through the glass before them, seeing the expanse of steel stairs leading up to the top of the reactor. 

“Gee, is that all?” Sole asked, swallowing nervously. She checked her bag, snagging some rad-x, before zipping up her hazmat suit. She chewed the tablets as she headed into the decontamination chamber, pressing the ominous red button to start the showers. The droplets fogged up her suits window, before a voice on the speaker granted her access. The doors to the reactor opened. The rads hit her hard. 

She felt sick, only the uncomfortable thought of throwing up in her suit kept her from spewing her food supplement. Every step felt worse than the last, the blue light of the water below her reflecting shimmering lines around the room.

Then the steel underfoot groaned, the grating shifted beneath her feet. She froze. Would these stairs support her all the way to the top? She took another experimental step and the metal fell away beneath her. Her hand caught the railing as the whole panel splashed into the water below her. She watched as the paint disintegrated off the metal. _That doesn’t look healthy…_ She worked her way along the railing, hoping the stairs might offer more support than the catwalk. Her foot found a sturdy foot hold, and it held. She let a breath of relief, lowering herself onto the stairs. Still, the rads were rising and she still needed to make it to the top. She stepped carefully, praying the structure would hold. 

Her stomach heaved, but she swallowed it down, there was no way she would be sick in this god damn suit.

Finally she made it, slamming her hand on the nearest button, letting the system release the Agitator. She pulled it out of it’s container carefully, conscious that she was holding very active nuclear material. It didn’t help that she just about jumped out of her skin when the alarms and red lights started. 

_Security Alert in the reactor chamber. Emergency lockdown initiated._

She bolted down the stairs, clutching the Agitator in one hand, and skimming the railing with the other. Her heart was beating out of her chest, adrenaline running through every fiber of her as she was desperate to leave this damn room, the air was getting so thin- Then her foot slipped.

In slow motion she felt herself falling, one hand grasping for the railing, and the other still holding the Agitator. _No, I can’t…_ Her eyes widened as her fingers lost their grip on the railing. She was falling from the platform, towards the radioactive waters… Her eyes shut, the radiation overwhelming… 

She barely knew what was happening, radiation sickness drowning out all feeling. She was moving, carried by waves maybe. The suit felt suffocating… The droplets of water pelted her sit...The nausea eased, she could breathe again. She opened her eyes to see the decontamination chamber. _How…?_ She was being carried like a child. Someone in another hazmat suit. Not Allie… Blank?

“Blank…?” She asked weakly. No response. The showers stopped and the door opened and he set her down. “X6…?” There was no time for a response, from the room outside they heard the familiar roar of a sentry bot. He dropped her, unceremoniously and got his laser rifle. She scrambled to her feet, watching the Sentry bot roll in. She realized with horror she was still holding the Agitator.

 _Shit, no time for this. Shit, I’m still holding this damned thing. Shit!_ She looked around and whistled. Allie looked over in time to catch the Agitator. Sole couldn’t be hanging on to it if she had to take down this mechanical bastard.

Its Gatling lasers revved up, ready to spit out hot neon colored death. They all took cover, just as a Protectron joined the fray. _Oh great, more._ She took out the Protectron from her cover, a single shot through the dome taking it offline. _If only they were all that easy._

She turned back to the sentry, Blank was firing round upon round of energy blasts, sharp red beams razing the sentry bot bit by bit. Sole unzipped her suit and slipped it off in one quick motion, fishing in her bag for her mines. She found one, activated it with a click, and flung it like a frisbee at the robot, smacking it in its god damned face, detonating on impact. _So it turns out frisbee golf was the most important thing we learned at law school, who knew._

It was still up though, bleeding sparks and coolant, switching from gatling lasers to a blizzard of bullets that shot through the haze of battle. Sole unloaded a couple slugs into it, aiming for it’s damaged head until finally the eyes went dark, and the fusion cores lit up.

“Get down!” Sole yelled, seconds before it disappeared into a roaring inferno, blasting out over the room. Shards of steel rained down, pelting them from their cover. Of course, that couldn’t be it. Sole looked back up at their only exit, to see two assaultrons enter. _If I live through this, i’ll never complain about changing broken light bulbs ever again._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_Lockdown Ended._

Sole sunk to her knees as the Protectron Guardian fell to pieces and the speaker announced their freedom. She was out of shells, out of explosives, and nearly out of motivation to get back up. Allie went to the elevator to get out, pressing the call button.

“C’mon, we’ve got it the Agitator. Not long now.” Allie reassured her as the elevator dinged open. Sole pulled herself up. The silent synth entered the elevator and Sole followed. The doors closed behind them and they ascended towards the lobby. They were pretty damn close, so what was going to go wrong this time? 

Her answer came as the elevator shuddered from the ripples of an explosion.

“These guys just don’t know when they are beaten.” Allie muttered in annoyance, holding the Agitator in one hand and her Institute rifle in the other. She glanced down at them and back to Sole. She took a breath and handed the Beryllium Agitator to Sole. “We have a few forces coming as back up. I’ll help the synths buy some time. Make sure you get back to the Institute with the Agitator.”

“I… But you-” Sole started, holding the Agitator gingerly.

“I’ll be fine.” Allie cut her off. “This synth will cover you, just make it to the relay point outside.” Sole nodded solemnly. She looked back at Blank.

“Hear that buddy?” Sole asked, “I’m trusting you to keep these jarheads off me.” He simply nodded. If it was him, he wasn’t letting anything slip. But it couldn’t be...

The elevator opened with a ding to a lobby strewn with bodies and fire fight. The Brotherhood weren’t going down without fight. Sole darted out of the elevator, sticking to the cover of railings and overturned desks. Allie disappeared into the firefight, while Blank stood over her, shooting down soldiers like it was their day job, which she guessed it was. She dove for the next cover, a chest high wall of sandbags. Sole waited as Blank made it to her, cutting through the knights with ease. The exit was in sight. They exchanged a look, and both bolted for it. Lasers strafed around her, leaving lines of neon across her vision. She barreled into the doors, forcing them open as they emerged onto the sun soaked streets of Boston. She gasped, the firefight behind her. She only had a moment before a blue light ripped her off the street. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

They materialized in the relay room. Blank and Sole. It took her a moment to adjust, steadying herself against the railing. 

“That was… Fun.” She muttered, slowly peeling herself from the rail and off the relay port. Blank wasn’t phased, already heading out of the room, not interested in after-mission small talk. She looked around, the relay technician, Dalc, was at the switchboard, hurriedly flipping switches. Another set of figures materialized on the port. Several synths appeared, surrounding Allie Filmore, exhausted but alive. She staggered off the platform and dropped to her knees. 

“I think… That was enough excitement for… Well forever...” She said weakly, hauling herself to her feet. She noticed Sole, also trying to keep herself up, and the Beryllium Agitator in hand. She broke out in a relieved smile and stood beside Sole. “Thank you, really. Couldn’t have managed that without you...” Sole handed over the Agitator, glad to be rid of it. “I’ll make sure this gets to where it needs to be. For now, I think you’ve earned a break.” Sole stood up stretching out her tired limbs, working the soreness from her muscles.

“Nah, no rest for the wicked.” 

Sole dragged herself to Advanced Systems, she still had a few things to sort before she could pass out. The lab was in its usual state, researchers busily working on their own projects, a few testing out weapons in the firing range. The one she was looking for was sitting at a table, uncharacteristically happy. The reason sat across from him, the child synth was busy sketching something with him.

“So I thought we could repurpose those old conveyor belts in the sublevels- Oh hiya!” The child looked up at her approach, oblivious to her injuries and tired eyes. Carrington didn't have the same innocent eyes. He saw her limp, the burns visible beneath her suit. His smile fell into a concerned frown. “Hey we were just working out the bowling alley, wanna help.”

“I’m sorry kiddo,” Sole apologised with a smile, “I just need to borrow the Doctor for a moment, but I want to be the first person to test out your automatic pin set.” Carrington stood up, following Sole to the side. She leaned against the wall, unable to support herself for much longer.

“I’m glad you are alive.” Doctor Carrington admitted with relief. “When I heard they were sending you into Mass Fusion, well...” 

“I have you to thank for making out of there.” Sole mumbled, looking away. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He answered evenly.

“Was it... ” She felt like she knew the answer, but was afraid to ask.

“He doesn’t exist anymore.” Carrington replied sharply. “Now, I have an enrichment project to return to.” He started back towards the child, leaving her twisting in the wind. Exhausted in every sense, she had to get back to her room.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

She was out cold the second her head hit the pillow. There were no dreams, no feeling of passage, just a blink and before she knew it she was awake. It was disorientating, waking up laying sideways on her bed. Her head felt heavy lifting off the bed. How long had she been out? She sat up against her pillows and massaged her eyes, coaxing them to stay up. 

“Come on, I got things to do… Can’t sleep...” She muttered angrily. “Gotta… Get out of here...” 

“And go where?” A voice asked politely. The smell of smoke burning her nose.

“Away… I need..” She was still so tired. 

“I meant to mention yesterday, the relay technician sent over some codes to make another personal relay system.” Carrington mused, taking a burning drag on his cigarette. “I took the liberty of improving the design. It’s actually pretty simple when you know the trick.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked, only half listening.

“I mean, it’s only a theory, but if you wanted to, you could make a lot of single use relay tags. Something that could teleport someone once out of here...” Her eyes shot open.

“So, you could tag people with these things and they’d just relay out? Just like that?” She asked, before coughing. “You know, in theory.”

“You would need somewhere safe to relay to, and it would take time to construct them, but yes. One flip of the switch and it would be as though anyone tagged was simply raptured.” This made her work so much easier. 

“You said we spoke yesterday…?”

“Yes, you’ve been asleep for quite some time. I’ve been sat here for over an hour as it is.”

Sole woke herself up more, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She was still fully clothed, shoes and all. That saved some time, if at the cost of hygiene. 

“So, can I ask about….” Sole started, giving him a sidelong glance. Carrington crossed his arms. 

“For his safety, you may not.” Carrington replied in a low voice. Her heart leapt, thoughts going at a million miles a minute. He wasn’t recalled. Carrington was hiding him… But he was still here… 

“You don’t trust me?” Sole asked, a little hurt.

“You may have forgotten, but I’ve seen all your memories. I know how little impulse control you have.”

“Point taken.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

X6 found it disturbingly easy to hide in plain sight in the Institute. The staff didn’t give him a second glance as long as he wore the Gen 2 synth armor. He thought for sure that the height disparity would be an issue, but he gave humans too much credit. After all, why would a synth hide as another synth?

He should have been recalled, maybe even taken apart to have his organic matter recycled… But Doctor Carrington gave him a choice. He could send him to the SRB to be recalled, or he could live to protect her…

She was foolhardy, always flinging herself into danger without regard for the Institutes future- For _Her_ future… He had to help her. She was too busy trying to save everyone else that she never thought to look out for herself.

That’s why he asked Carrington to send him to Mass Fusion. Sending in there with nothing but a few Gen 2 synths was suicide. 

He walked the empty halls, heading towards the old Robotics assembly. The area used to be for putting together Protectrons and eventually the first synths. For now it was his makeshift refuge. The air was musty and damp, reflecting the decay X6 often saw on the surface. He always thought the Institute was above such neglect, but the last few weeks had opened his eyes to many flaws. 

He descended the stair well until he entered the assembly area. He noticed dried blood on the tiles as he went, a visceral remnant of S10-04's first moments in the institute. It turned his stomach slightly recalling how she had clawed her way up the stairs after the botched teleport... There was more history in these basement levels than anyone would like to admit. 

He’d arranged a small area of the assembly room to be almost like a room, lining boxes up like walls. It was strange having an area all to himself. His previous accommodations had been the Courser barracks, a place without privacy or peace. Carrington had helped him move a small wire cot down there, and they’d hidden it from line of sight behind some old crates of machine parts. It was better than sleeping on the cold hard ground. 

He lay himself down on it, the steel whining beneath him. The only sound in the place. At least the lights were kept on here. He hated the dark. X6 sighed and closed his eyes. 

His world was changing around him, and it would only get worse. He could feel that there was something Carrington wasn’t telling him. Perhaps he wasn’t sure where X6’s loyalties still lay. If things fell apart, would he stand with his home, his creators… Or would he stand with her, betraying everything he had ever known.

On paper it seemed black and white, but when he saw her falling to her death in that reactor room, he wasn’t trying to save a piece of technology, he was trying to save _her_.

If he didn’t hesitate to see her as she was, maybe he could see himself in the same light... Maybe he could see all the synths as they were… Not tools or property... But _alive_.

_Maybe…_

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got kind of impatient and posted this one here too. Please give me a heads up and tell me if anything doesn't read well. My editor is lovable but useless.
> 
> Edit: So, if so this thing has over 420 hits on it. I mean, I was tempted to hide this forever at 420 hits. Really tempted. Y'all in trouble if this get 69 kudos.
> 
> Edit: Not sure if you guys are messing with me, as soon as I posted that edit I got like 6 more kudos. You guys. You guys I love you.


	17. Chapter 17

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“This place could use a once over with some kerosene and a match.” Hancock spat, side stepping a pile of viscera that had dripped from one of the corpses hanging above them. 

“Keeps the neighbors from getting friendly.” The woman beside him muttered. She definitely looked the part of grizzled Raider, hair strewn with gore and dirt (what hair was left anyway), leather armor covering just what was vital, skin scored with scars and deep burns. In a past life he would have made a move, but today he wasn’t feeling it.

“Look, I'm not going to pretend I've got the cleanest hands, but-” He started, passing through the sandbag barriers lined with barbed wire and severed heads. 

“The decor isn’t ours,” The woman cut him off sharply. “There was a super mutant nest, wiped them out and borrowed a cup of human remains. It’s not exactly out of ‘Picket Fences’ but we haven’t had to deal with the local raider gangs yet.” The two walked through a plywood doorway into a crowded pocket of structures sandwiched into the old alley. Hancock let out a low whistle, impressed with what they’d done to the place. It had come a a long ways since he’d been there last with… His stomach dropped and he pushed the thought to the side.

Around him, was what left of the Railroad. Some of them worked polishing weapons, others were preparing medical supplies, and the rest were getting precious moments of sleep before their shift on watch.

“Would you look at this place... you smell that? Smells like opportunity... and I think something died over there.” Hancock mused in wonder, throwing a smirk back at the woman. She didn’t think it was funny.

“Des is over here.” She ignored his comments and led him to a ramshackle structure, creaking under the wait of the scaffolding and shelter above it. In the shade of the building was the cranky bitch who made Fahr’s smoking habit look tame. 

She was scowling at some papers in her hand. Behind her was some agent dressed in engineers get up tinkering around with something on a workbench. He looked fun, had the recognizable twitch of someone on their second tin of mentats. 

Des looked up at him, and there was a flicker of relief on her face. She put down the papers and crossed her arms. 

“So you came, does that mean we can count on Good Neighbors support?” Des asked, cutting straight to the point. 

“No foreplay? Alright I can dig it.” He shrugged, “Yeah, you got our support. **If** you tell me what we're getting ourselves into.” Des glanced at the woman beside him.

“Arkani didn’t fill you in?” Des asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t need to.” The woman interjected. “All I had to say was the ‘I’ word and he came running on his own.” 

“Yeah, well, I got a special kind of beef with them.” Hancock said, coal black eyes narrowing at Des. She held his gaze, tipping away the ash on her cigarette. 

“We got another way into the Institute.” Des replied finally. “An agent recovered a relay device. Tinker Tom managed to engineer a back door to it.” There was a silence, as an anger built in him.

“You’re trying this shit again?” He seethed, “Didn’t exactly go to fucking plan last time, did it?” That’s when the agent behind Des turned over at them.

“This time’s different.” He chimed in defensively, Hancock rounded on him now. “This device came straight from the Institute!”

“Tom’s right.” Des agreed. “We only had vague blueprints before, now we have a solid piece of tech behind us.”

“What? So she was just a guinea pig to you?” He snapped, the settlement going silent around him. “Just something to chalk up to experience? Better luck next time?” His eyes were prickling over with tears, but he refused to let it show. He needed to stab something, _or Someone_. 

“I know it ain’t your style, but think this through before you do something **real** stupid.” A voice behind him cautioned. The voice of someone _very_ stabbable.

“I've had enough of you for two lifetimes, Sunglasses.” Hancock growled, Deacons specs reflecting his own glare. “Get the hell out of my sight.” Deacon didn’t flinch, he didn’t wear his usual joking smile, and most importantly he didn’t move out of stabbing range.

“Just own up to your part of the blame, pal.” Deacon replied evenly. Hancock whipped around to face him, one hand reaching for his collar, the other drawing his knife, holding it to Deacons stomach, the blade pressing into his skin. Deacon wasn’t impressed. “So, it's big stick time?”

“Oh, you're a laugh a minute.” The ghoul growled, the blade drawing blood now, itching to disembowel him. “Let’s see how funny you are tripping over your Goddamned guts. If you got any that is.” The ghoul ignored the quiet sound of laser weapons charging up behind him, and the soft click of a safety coming off a 10 mm. The Railroad wasn’t going to let him gut this guy and get away with it. 

Hancock had to weigh things. Kill this guy for the short term satisfaction, or the long term satisfaction of watching the Institute burn. It took a moment, but he let go of Deacon, wiping the blood on his coat before sheathing the blade. The settlement relaxed somewhat, but all eyes were on Hancock.

“Good call, chief.” Deacon approved. “There's a lot of... delicate things at play here.” The ghoul spat at his feet.

“As a courtesy, I won't cut your throat right here.” Hancock hissed, leaning so only Deacon could hear, “You get on my bad side when no one’s lookin’ and I can't promise I'll be so polite.” He stepped back, keeping eye contact, before turning back to Des. The Railroad leader massaged away a migraine starting above her left eye before addressing the Mayor.

“We’ve gotten some intel from a source close to the Institute that something’s going to go down soon.” She continued, taking a stressful drag on her cigarette. “Word is there’s a revolution planned from inside. That’ll be our time to make a move.”

“Are you serious?” Hancock asked, more skeptical than impressed. “How do you know this is legit?”

“The information came in an encoded message from our contact on the inside, Patriot.” Arkani explained impatiently. “It doesn’t get anymore reliable.” That didn’t exactly smooth over his doubts, but at this point he didn’t care.

“And what do you need my people for?” Hancock demanded. “Gonna put us on the front lines for some Courser target practice?” 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone.” Des snapped, grinding her cigarette into the metal scaffolding beside her. “Stop acting like a child and think of the bigger picture for one GODDAMN MINUTE!” She was furious now, and it sent a ripple of shock through the settlement. Even Hancock took pause. This was a woman pushed to the brink, standing in the ruins of the organization she’d built her life around. 

“Alright, simmer down.” Hancock muttered, “Say this is happening. I gotta know good folks aren’t going to get hurt.” Desdemona took a deep breath, and steadied herself.

“I’ll be honest with you,” She started, “We don’t know what to expect. All we know is that there’s going to be an influx of free synths, followed by a slew of Coursers and the like trying to claw them back.” She pulled a cigarette out of thin air and another agent lit it with practiced ease, Des relaxed with lungs full of fresh nicotine. “We have some coordinates of where they’ll relay to, all we have to do is go there and cover them while a handful of agents relay in and tear the place apart.” 

“Sounds like vague bullshit,” Hancock remarked, “But if it gets me face to face with those bastards I’ll do whatever it takes. Where are they gonna land?” 

“From what we can tell, they’ll relay straight to these coordinates.” Des replied, gesturing to a detailed map on the workbench behind her. Hancock leant forward to follow her gesture, and saw the red x marked on the map. His stomach twisted. _Of all the places… It had to be there…_

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“You just going to sulk there until we move out?” Arkani asked, tinkering at a workbench across from Hancock. The ghoul sat with his back against a shack wall, sharpening his knife and glowering quietly. 

“What of it?” He snapped, still moving his blade over his travel sized whetstone in slow, deliberate motions. 

“Nothing, just kind of pathetic.” She remarked, unscrewing the grips from a pipe pistol. He was quiet, she’d hit him right where he lived, but pathetic was too good for him. _Coward_ , that was closer to the truth. She looked over when the sound of sharpening stopped. “You look like someone sold you brahmin shit and called it jet.” He gave a hollow chuckle at that.

“Something like that.” He replied, pocketing the whetstone. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He looked up, before shaking his head. “Nah, not going to unload a sob story on a stranger.” She shrugged, returning to her work.

“Suit yourself,” She said, “As long as you want to take the institute as badly as Deeks says you do, than you probably got your reasons.” 

“Heh, he would know.” Hancock muttered, gripping his knife. 

“Better not carry that bad blood with you on the battlefield.” She cautioned, “He might end up between you and a bullet.”

“Oh I can guarantee that.” Hancock replied darkly. She set her work down in frustration.

“Alright, what’s your problem?” She demanded. “If you hate us so much why are you here?” He stood up slowly, methodically, and advanced on her.

“You’re new, I won’t hold that against you.” He growled. “Because if you knew her, if you were there when she died… You’d _know_.”

“Lucky me.” She spat, “Newsflash, we’ve lost a lot more than whoever _she_ was. I came into this shit show after the Brotherhood tore everyone a new asshole. Whoever she was got off easy.” 

“And you still signed up for this shit?” He asked in disbelief, “You gotta death wish?” 

“It’s not a death wish if you got nothing to live for.” She replied, her eyes glossing over for a moment. Hancock took a step back, breathing in to settle his temper. 

_“You and me both, sister.”_

\----------------------------------------------------------------

The stars were out that night, without a cloud in the sky to obscure them. He lay on top of the fire escape, just staring up at them, high as a kite on Calm-ex. He’d enough of this sober shit, now it was time to ride the high until it was time to start shooting at the walking toasters. 

He felt as though he was drifting amongst the stars, feeling weightless as the chems ran through him, numbing the pain and aches that usually plagued his radiation ravaged body. 

The hiss of a jet canister beside him brought him back to earth, the world focusing around him. The stars seemed so far now...

“Fuck...” The voice beside him breathed, the jet vapor curling into the night sky. “Where do you get this shit?” 

The stars felt like smears in the sky to her, arching across the sky above them, Arkani hadn’t had something this good for awhile. 

“I know a guy...” He murmured, she handed him back the canister. He hesitated, looking at it in his hands against the night sky. He hadn’t planned on going back on his bullshit this hard… But one hit wouldn’t hurt… 

“Didn't they have those PSAs back in the day? About drugs and the wacky awesome lifestyle they promote?”A grating voice asked from the stairs. Arkani looked up, startled, but Hancock just sighed and put the canister back in his pocket. No point taking it if it stretches out a moment with this asshole. Deacon turned his attention to Arkani, who was already getting up, expecting a lecture. But Deacon was silent, shades catching the moonlight. He exuded the phrase _I’m not mad, just disappointed_

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” She muttered, heading back down the fire escape, her echoing footsteps dying away until she made it to the ground. Then it was just the two of them.

“How old do ya think I am?” Hancock murmured finally, too far gone to be angry. 

“Old enough to say no to drugs.” Deacon replied, holding tightly to the railing of the fire escape. He wasn’t at his best at this altitude. “But more importantly, old enough to know how gravity works, so how’s bout we just head down-”

“No one asked you, _mom_.” Hancock retorted, not even looking over at him. Deacon sighed and carefully crawled up to the level Hancock lay on, much to both of their discomforts. There was a silence, before the ghoul closed his tired eyes.

“You think she’s up there?” Hancock asked quietly.

“I couldn’t say...” Deacon replied, the stars reflecting in his shades.

“Ma always said that’s where you go.” Hancock continued. “It was some kind of pre-war thing. When you died, you got wings or something...” He was too high to keep his thoughts straight. 

“Yeah, it was an old world religion.” Deacon explained. “If you’re a good-two shoes, you got to Heaven, but the rest of us scum were stuck in hell.”

“That was it...” Hancock nodded. “‘Cept were already in hell.”

“Amen to that.”

“A-what?” 

“Never mind.”

Hancock felt himself drifting into sleep, every breath becoming deeper, every thought slower… Deacon barely noticed, looking up at the Commonwealth sky, how the horizons seemed to stretch forever. 

“I hope she’s not the only one up there...” Deacon mused. “It would be a lonely life to be the only angel…

\----------------------------------------------------------------

\----------------------------------------------------------------

She’d used some bullshit excuse about gathering research materials to get a relay to the surface. She’d have preferred to be there during the day, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

It was worth it to break into that Bowlarama, if perhaps a bit misguided. 

She sat atop the bowling alleys roof, her bag laden with three bowling balls. A promise was a promise. She’d contacted the relay point for a pickup, but she wasn’t in any hurry. On the roof of the decrepit building she was safe, safe enough to gaze up at the stars. That was one thing she missed underground. 

She felt something strange come over her, staring up at the pricks of light in the sky. They blurred, their light smearing into each other. She felt her face just as the tears poured down. Why was she crying? She didn’t miss the stars that much, did she?

\----------------------------------------------------------------

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Is everything set?” Sole asked quietly, Z1 nodded. The two of them stood in front of a storage box full of pistols, rifles, and a few knives. Anything to arm the Synths that were to escape. “Carrington is almost finished with the relay tags. I’ll test them as soon as I can, just to make sure everything is ready for you guys.” 

“That is good, but we need to discuss the time-” Z1 started, but Sole cut him off.

“I‘m not budging on this.” She argued. “We move the moment Father is… Gone. Not a moment sooner.” She could live with a lot, but she couldn’t hurt him like this… 

“If we delay this any longer, everything could fall apart.” Z1 pointed out. 

“Carrington hasn’t even finished the tags, I’m not delaying anything!” She snapped back. “He’s sick, he won’t be around for long.” It was true, she hadn’t been able to see him for days. The only answer she got from the Doctors around him was that he was undergoing an intense procedure to ease his suffering… It killed her to think of the pain he was in. 

“Very well.” Z1 accepted curtly, though she could tell he wasn’t exactly happy with the arrangement. “We’ll bide our time a little longer.” He took some folded laundry from a shelf above her, turned, and left the storage cupboard. Sole sighed, closing her eyes. She hated this. The lying, the manipulation. The betrayal… It wouldn’t be long before everything fell in on itself.

Carrington was at his desk in the Advanced Systems lab, carefully holding a soldering torch while synth shaun watched beside him. The boy had welders goggles, adjusted to fit his tiny head, and was sitting on the edge of his stool with excitement.

Sole strolled in, stopping to lean on the desk near them, but not saying a word until Carrington flicked off the bright flame, and took off his own goggles to inspect his work. That’s when he noticed her. 

“It’s coming together.” He replied, looking closely at every connection on the little round patch of silicate. “Should be good for a test run tomorrow.” Sole glanced around, but the other scientists barely took notice. Carrington glanced up from his work. “Will you help us test run the, uh, _automatic pinset_?” She blinked, before nodding.

“You know me, always got my bowling shoes on.” She said with a smile. Synth shaun looked down at her feet in confusion. “It's an expression, kiddo.” 

“Ooh, well, I'm glad you’re coming.” He huffed. “Nobody else wants to help.” That would explain the express disinterest of the other researchers. 

“Yeah well most adults are boring.” Sole explained with a shrug. “Oh, I nearly forgot! I got you a bowling ball!” His face lit up.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yes-huh!” 

It had been dark, but she’d found the lightest ball they had. It was practically as heavy as a marble. 

“Not to disturb you,” Carrington cut in, “But could you continue this elsewhere? I am nearly finished.”

“Right, how about we go get some lunch.” She agreed. “C’mon kid, I'll even get you a lemonade.” That practically launched the kid off his stool, and the two of them raced to the cafeteria. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

_The Institute needed a bar._ Sole thought, strolling back to her quarters after having lunch with synth Shaun. _It’s not enough for everyone to quietly kill their livers in the comfort of their own room._ She hadn’t had a drink for a long time, and now wasn’t a time she could afford to get drunk. She had to test run that relay in the morning, and her stomach was already in knots about it. A hangover would do her no favors. Even so, the underlying ache for a shot of whiskey was almost overwhelming. 

She let out a long breath, standing in front of her door. She was sure there was some ethanol in one of these labs. One drink couldn’t hurt, could it? 

No, nope. Not this time. She couldn’t run to the bottle this time. She had to stay sober. Besides, this was a new liver. If she was going to break it in, it would be with something decent, like a double rum with Nuka cola. 

She slid the door open with a _shush_ , and begrudgingly entered, flopping on to her freshly made bed. She closed her eyes and lay there. Maybe if she was motionless long enough, the bed would swallow her up. Then this war would be someone else’s problem. 

No more lying, no more running, no more nightmares…

“Ma’am?”

Her blood froze. Someone was in her room. No, not just any someone. She sat up, turning back to the door. In the chair by the door was a figure, unmistakable. She couldn’t even hesitate, something just seemed to carry her over the floor until she was hugging him tightly, speechless with joy. 

“Ma’am, please.” Came his quiet plea. She let go, staggering back, unsteady on her feet, delirious with happiness. She landed on her ass, still gazing up at him.

“You’re.. You...” She was too overcome for words. 

“Yes, I am present.” He replied, not quite sure to make of the emotion. 

“I knew it!” She said under her breath. “It was you at Mass Fusion.”

“Affirmative, I accompanied you.” He admitted. “For Doctor Carrington’s safety, I could not reveal my identity.”

“Permission to hug you?” She asked hopefully.

“Permission denied.” X6 replied, crossing his arms. “I did not come here for a social call.”

“Then why did you come?” She asked, keeping the small bit of hurt out of her voice. 

“I need to know what you are planning.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes. That.”

There was a tone of reserved disappointment in his voice that he’d usually only use when she fished something out of the trash. 

“X6… ” She started, looking away. “How much do you know so far?”

“You seem to have this interrogation backwards, Ma’am.” X6 replied, raising an eyebrow. She did owe him an explanation. She’d almost got him killed after all.

“All right.” She said finally, looking him in the eyes. “But I have to know, if I tell you everything will you still...”

“Regardless, of what you tell me, I’ll still follow you into hell, Ma’am.” He assured her, his stern frown softening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man sorry this took a while, I was sort of caught out on how to end the chapter. A big thank you to everyone who left kudos and commented :) The next chapter will be a big one. Things are about to go **down**. On another note, I got Fallout 4 on my pc now. And oh man. I forgot how much I pined for Deacon. This will be good fuel for my next project. 
> 
> Also, looking forward to Outer Worlds, I think that will have a lot of fanfiction potential. (Admittedly they have said there will be no romance-able companions, but that hasn't stopped me yet!) 
> 
> I'm still comfortably on track for finishing this fic within the year. So that's good. Thank you folks for reading this far, it really means a lot to me. I love you all so much!!! I'm on tumblr too if anyone wants to message me. My handle is still doublerumnukacola.


	18. The Long Walk Home

__

_“Deacon, I need you to escort him to the relay point. Try and keep him out of trouble.”_

__

_“I'm a bodyguard, then? Cool. I'll work on glowering.”_

Deacon could think of better things to do than babysitting Hancock all the way to the relay point. Things like taking a shit over an unpinned grenade, Shaking hands with a Super Mutant Suicider, and going skinny dipping in the Charleston.   
But Des’s orders were Des’s orders. He wasn’t going to push her on this, not after everything she’d been through.

They were two hours into their trek, having travelled in blissful silence, when the good Mayor dropped the question:  
“How did it happen?”   
Deacon took a moment, he knew what Hancock was asking. He took a deep breath, silently praying that a hapless group of raiders would ambush them and save him having to do this.  
“She… The teleporter...” Deacon started, stumbling over his words. _Oh boy._ “There was a rad storm… It struck the platform just as she…” His voice trailed off. _See that wasn’t so bad? Just reliving one of the worst moments of your life. At least he doesn’t know about the **second** time she died. Y’know, when I killed her in cold blood._ Deacon steadied himself with another breath. _Gee, hope those chems haven’t made him a mind reader._   
“If I was there...” Hancock said softly, oblivious to Deacon’s inner monologue. “Would it have made a difference?” _Yeah, because we wouldn’t be having this conversation 10 feet from a decaying brahmin corpse. We probably wouldn’t be having it at all. You wouldn’t have let her do what she did._  
“No, there was nothing you could have done.” Deacon lied through his teeth. “The storm came on so suddenly, no one could have done anything.” _Except we saw that storm coming a mile away. I pushed her into going through with it. I didn’t tell the others how emotionally compromised she was. I killed her. I killed her…_ “And you know how head strong she was. I doubt even you could have talked her out of it.” Hancock didn’t look at him, his eyes were focused on the road.   
“I guess you’re right...” Hancock admitted.   
“Hey,” Deacon tried to say reassuringly. “After this, nobody will have to die because of the Institute.” _No, they’ll just die for all the other petty reasons we can come up with. Then we won’t have the Commonwealth Boogeyman to blame, just ourselves…_ Hancock was silent again. Deacon had no way of knowing if he’d bought the lie or not, but he was glad they weren’t talking again. 

It wasn’t until they were passing Gray Garden that Hancock broke the silence again, possibly emboldened by the Grape Mentats he’d found amidst his pocket lint.  
“So what ever happened between you two?” He asked casually, plucking a mutfruit from the trees as they passed the crops. The worker drones buzzed and chirped angrily, but carried on.   
Deacon was quiet, hiking up the hill ahead of them. It was a loaded question that Hancock couldn’t even know half the answer to.   
“Hey, you check out on me?” The ghoul called up to him, before taking a bite out of mutated purple fruit. Deacon stopped at the top and sighed. _Alright, here it goes._  
“Sole? We were just partners.” He started as Hancock made his way up the hill after him. “Amigos, buddies, pals… You know.” Hancock didn’t look particularly convinced. “Besides, no offense but the age difference was just too weird.” That sounded a little more genuine. “And I don’t usually make a habit of getting involved in love triangles.” That made Hancock bristle a bit. 

\---------------------------------------------

The sun was starting to dip under the horizon, bathing the dead grass in an orange glow. The sky was just starting to turn a deep dark blue, faint stars peeking through faintly. Hancock had a pit in his stomach as they got closer to the relay point. He wasn’t looking forward to running into any familiar faces there. _Why’d it have to be **Sanctuary?**_ His feet were starting to drag in the dirt, kicking up small clouds as he went. Abernathy farm was coming up, but they stuck to the edges, they didn’t need any attention.   
“So, you cleared this show with Garvey?” Hancock asked quietly, trudging through some brush.   
“Yeah, we met him up here last week.” Deacon nodded, “He’s expecting us.”   
“Great.” Hancock spat. “And how does he feel about being down a general?”   
“He knew her.” Deacon answered bluntly. “He knew she’d do anything to save her son.”  
“You like saying a lot of things that don’t mean nothin’?” Hancock asked in annoyance, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “ **Knowing** someone ain’t the same as _**loving**_ ‘em.” He pulled out his flip lighter and lit up, the glowing embers bright against the darkening sky. “But I guess the nuance o’ that is a little lost on you.” Deacon gritted his teeth and kept on in silence. 

The lights of Sanctuary stood out from its surroundings in a way that looked strikingly similar to Diamond City. The similarities didn’t do much for Hancocks mood. He pulled out another cigarette as they came to the renovated bridge that led to the settlement of Sanctuary.  
Preston was already striding out the front gates to meet them, his face uncharacteristically dead pan. As he got closer Hancock could see blood shot eyes and dark bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well in weeks.   
“We’re ready for you.” Preston said, all the warmth gone from his voice. He turned back and started back through the gates. Deacon and Hancock exchanged looks as they followed close behind him.   
Sanctuary was quieter than last Hancock had been there. There were less Caravans, less Minutemen, and more turrets chugging away. The three of them passed over a sticky reddish patch on the cracked pavement where someone had met their violent and bloody end. Hancock felt a shudder come over him. There was something wrong about blood shed inside a fortress like this. In Good neighbor, there were bloody patches everywhere, that was just politics. But here, it felt more personal.  
Preston silently led them to a small single room steel shack, entirely out of place amongst the rustic ramshackle wood buildings around them. It had no windows, no cracks anywhere, it was like a vault. The door to it even looked like it had been ripped from a secure military facility. Preston nodded to the guards outside it and they unlocked the door with a set of several keys for each lock. Finally the door swung open, the guard handed Preston the keys before the Minuteman leader disappeared inside.Deacon and Hancock hesitated outside the door. They gave each other a wary look. If things didn’t go well in there, they’d be ready for it. 

The interior was well padded with rotting blankets, boarded up on top of that with sheets of rusty metal. It was suffocating inside, the more so as the door closed behind them. The shack was lit by a single naked bulb, casting a harsh light over Preston as he sat in a ratty arm chair. There was a moment as the two held their breath, before Preston seemed to collapse in on himself. He held his head in his hands, wracked with sobs. This was far from what they were expecting.   
“I’m… I’m so sorry...” He managed between heaving breaths, a stream of tears running down his face. _That explains the bloodshot eyes._ His voice broke as he continued. “I… If I hadn’t… If I’d...” He choked on his words. He couldn’t look Hancock in the eyes.   
“C’mon Garvey,” Hancock tried to reassure him, somewhat awkwardly. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Preston closed his eyes, nodding, holding his breath.   
“You… You didn’t come here for this...” Preston coughed, drying his face with a washcloth from his pocket, well worn from use. “I’m… Sorry. That isn’t going to help us.” Preston took a breath, adjusted his hat, and some of the old Preston came back. “Sorry about the war room, can’t afford anyone to over hear us.”   
“Better safe than sorry, I guess.” Deacon agreed. “But your men know they’ll be _helping_ synths, not just shooting them, right?”  
“Everyone in Sanctuary is ready to die to protect synths,” Preston replied firmly, fixing Deacon with a stern gaze. “We lost two thirds of our forces because of it.” Deacon looked away, he knew saving synths was a hard sell, but that was a lot of manpower to lose.   
“Hey, Specs,” Hancock said softly, glancing at him. “Why don’t you do some recon.” Deacon hardly needed an excuse, he practically burst out of the stuffy room.  
Hancock breathed in deeply as the cool night air rushed in, and was snuffed out again. It was just the two of them, Hancock took a seat in a rickety wooden chair beside Preston. There was an almost comforting silence for a moment. 

“I miss her too.” Hancock breathed, admitting the obvious. “This was last thing she wanted… All the pain, the fear, the loss the Institute's inflicted. Time we returned the favor.”   
“You think her boy’s still in there?” Preston asked tiredly, but with a small spark of hopeful optimism.  
“Well, last I heard, all signs pointed to: Yes.” Hancock replied with a shrug. “I don’t think she would have tried getting in if she thought it was for nothin’.” Preston nodded. Hancock closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair, hearing it creak in protest.   
“From what the Railroad tells me, it’s going to be one helluva scuffle when this goes down.” Preston continued. “As much as I’d love to be one of the ones to relay inside that hell hole, i’ll have to stay here and keep our casualty count low, and the body count high.”   
“Your loss,” Hancock smirked ruefully. “I plan on making sure that the whole place goes down in flames.”  
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” Preston said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Can I ask a favor?” Hancock bristled, he wasn’t going to like this. “Give an evacuation signal.”  
“I’m going to need you to repeat that, _nice and slow_.” Hancock growled, sitting up straight now. “Because it sounded like you said you wanted me to-”  
“Show mercy.” Preston replied sharply.   
“Yeah, that thing the Institute **never** does.” Hancock shot back with a bitter laugh. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This had to be a joke.   
“Exactly.” Preston affirmed. “The thing that separates us from the Institute. They massacred the Brotherhood of Steel, and nearly did the same to the RailRoad. They might even do it to us.” He took a breath, before continuing. “So when you get inside, signal an evacuation. Let them have a chance to escape. You might even find her son down there...” Hancocks stomach sunk at the thought. That scared him more than anything else. What if he **did** find her kid? What then? His plan was to go down with the ship. Blow up everything, tear down the place, die in a fit of flames. But with a kid? This fight was about something worth dying for. But a reason to live? Something he couldn’t run from?  
“No deal Garvey.” Hancock muttered, crossing his arms.   
“Hancock, you’re the only one who can do this.” He pleaded.  
“You could ask Specs.”  
“I’m asking you.”   
“My lifestyle ain’’t exactly kid-friendly.”  
“I’ll take care of him.”  
There was a tense silence. Hancock wanted a hit of anything to take him out of the moment, grinding his teeth.   
“Why can’t I just grab the kid? Why evacuate those killers?”  
“Because it won’t just be killers. It will probably be children, innocents, and not to mention synths.”  
More silence. His head was starting to pound, and his skin was getting itchy. He needed to take his pill as soon as this was over. And it wouldn’t be over until he agreed to Garvey’s terms.  
“Fine. I’ll do it.”  
“Promise me.”  
“I said I’d do it!”  
“Promise.”  
Hancock stood up, ready to shout over him, but he made the mistake of looking Preston in the eye. His gaze seemed to tear through him.   
“I… I promise. Happy?”  
“No, but after this is all over I might be.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The night had firmly taken hold, the last vestiges of sunset snuffed out with the deep black ink that spilled across the sky. Deacon sat back in his chair, cracking open a can of purified water. He hadn’t been at his little hideout in awhile. He sat in his old chair, sheltered beneath a roof of scrap metal. He took a sip of water and just looked out into the dark, a perfect view of the vault platform, illuminated by an industrial floodlight.   
He’d used to come here whenever he needed to get out of HQ. He’d been here when Switchboard got raided. He’d been here when he saw those Institute eggheads open it up. He was here when _She_ came out…. And now here he was once more.  
Sitting there now, he felt as though at any moment the platform would slide open again to reveal the rising figure of a petrified house wife in a skin-tight vault suit. He almost chuckled at the thought. It was ridiculous. She was gone. He’d seen to that. Maybe it was for the best, now she was at rest with everyone else from her era. All up there in-  
A crackle of blue light interrupted him. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Carrington-” She said breathlessly, before throwing up on the platform. These makeshift relays really did a number on her. After her stomach heaved the last of her nutrition packet onto her boots, she wiped her mouth and pressed her communications badge again. “-I made it.” His voice crackled in her ear.  
“All in one piece?” He asked with reserved optimism. She checked her self, it was hard to tell in the dark, but she didn’t feel anything missing. All her organs felt in the right place this time, which made a pleasant change.   
“As far as I can tell.” She replied. “Anything way we can work out that teleport sickness? I don’t think the synths will be running far if they all lose their lunch.”  
“We could tell them to relay on an empty stomach.” Carrington suggested.  
“Might work, or they might just chuck up blood instead.” She pointed out, shaking a bit of the sludge off her boot. “I’m going to set up these relay points, you try and work out a solution.”   
Sole took her hand off the Com badge and made her way off the platform, pulling out a stealthboy as she did. It was best she plant these relay points without running into any MinuteMen. Too many questions, not enough time to answer them.   
Her heart ached as she saw the outlines of Sanctuary against the night. What she wouldn’t give to have a drink there… Laugh with her men- No, not hers anymore... Their General was dead. Sole swallowed and clicked the stealth boy. The sooner she did this, the better. 

She placed them around the perimeter of Sanctuary, quietly placing them along the shore, irradiated waters lapping over the detritus. She recalled a faint memory of sitting on this very shore, crying. Skin seared from Codsworth’s flame thrower, a haphazardly patched wound on her shoulder where his saw had caught her. It was a miracle she’d lived through that at all. The scar was gone, all the scars were gone. Left on another body… At least the physical ones were.  
For the first time, she felt her eyes tear up for him. That poor robot, waiting all that time for his mistress, only to be met with a poor copy… His scanners would’ve noticed the differences. No wonder he tried to kill her.  
She had to shake it off, she needed to finish this before she ran out of stealth boys. 

She only just made it back to the platform before the shimmer of her refraction field fell away. She let out a sigh of relief, she’d done it. And without any-  
“No place like home, huh?” A voice beside her muttered. She grabbed her tiny laser pistol and whipped around. In the dark, it was impossible to catch the shimmer of a stealth boy. But she knew he was there.   
“C’mon, cut that out.” Sole snapped. “I can’t afford to lose another body. Not now.” The stealth boy clicked off, to reveal Deacon. He was in a standard wastelanders get up, no wig, and some five o’clock shadow growing in. If he was happy to see her, he wasn’t showing it.  
“You just keep showing up,” He noted evenly.  
“I’m like a bad penny.” Sole answered with the same even tone.  
“You know, it’s a bit early to be hiding easter eggs.” Deacon pointed out. “Should I be worried about the little packages you’ve been scattering?”  
“They are devices to pinpoint the coordinates for relay.” Sole explained. “They dowse for objects between them, that way no one gets relayed inside a lamp post.” He nodded, it checked out.   
“And that’s synths relaying in, right?” Deacon asked pointedly. “And not a small regiment of Coursers?”  
“If it were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Sole replied, rolling her eyes. “Now, I need to get back before someone realises I’m here.” She pressed her com badge. “Hey, Carrington, beam me back.” Deacons eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her satisfied smirk was the last thing he saw of her before she vanished in a crackle of blue light. 

How many times did he have to kill her? How many more times would he have to? 

\-----------------------------------------------------

Well, what was meant to happen was she would relay back to the empty basement of the Institute and be greeted by Carrington and X6. But that’s not what happened.   
Instead she found herself standing in a prewar living room, blown apart and covered in dust. A part of her knew she was still in Sanctuary, but she couldn’t figure out which part. Then she glanced at the shattered tv and a flicker of memory came through. The last tv broadcast.   
_My house. This was my house_ She backed away from the tv in horror, her back hitting the wall. Her diploma fell against the shelf. _Not my diploma. Not my house. It was her’s. Not mine._ Her legs felt weak. Maybe it was the relay, maybe it was the shock, but she couldn’t move. _They’ll have seen the flash. I have to get out of here._ She heard some footsteps. Heavy boots scraping the cement as they drew closer. _Oh God, not Preston. I can’t take having to explain to Preston why i’m alive and dressed like an Institute synth._ She crept back quietly, but her legs gave out, and she crashed to the floor. _Fuck._ The door flew open, a figure strode in, a shot gun pointed forward. It didn’t take long before he saw her and aimed it at her head. There was only so much a synth helmet could protect from, and a shotgun slug at point blank range was not one of those things. They stepped forward, shutting the door behind them. It was too dark to see them, but this wasn’t Preston. Whatever they said was lost on her, because suddenly things went dark. Two faulty relays had taken a toll on her.

She was out cold when the figure took off her helmet. She had no idea how his world was crashing in on itself as soon as he saw her face in the faint lamp light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been sitting on this one for awhile, couldn't put any shout outs in this one so I'm just going to say thank you everyone for your support. I am still blown away this still gets kudos! It's at 53 right now, so almost at 69. You guys are amazing, and don't worry this will be finished soon.


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